“I can hear the food digesting,” Felicity whispered dramatically. “It sounds like a cement mixer.”
But this is Part 1. And the stakes have never been higher. The fluorescent lights of Target hummed overhead as Nikki grabbed the handle of a red cart. She was tall, athletic, with a confident smirk. Felicity, shorter and softer around the edges, pushed a second cart.
Nikki moved on to her second course: boxed mac and cheese with extra butter. She ate it standing up, claiming it “settles better.” But her posture betrayed her. She held one hand under her belly—now noticeably protruding, a tight drum of food pressing against her tank top.
“I can hear the food digesting,” Felicity whispered dramatically. “It sounds like a cement mixer.”
But this is Part 1. And the stakes have never been higher. The fluorescent lights of Target hummed overhead as Nikki grabbed the handle of a red cart. She was tall, athletic, with a confident smirk. Felicity, shorter and softer around the edges, pushed a second cart.
Nikki moved on to her second course: boxed mac and cheese with extra butter. She ate it standing up, claiming it “settles better.” But her posture betrayed her. She held one hand under her belly—now noticeably protruding, a tight drum of food pressing against her tank top.