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Climate disaster meets Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.

This is the whoppingly great story about 37 weeks pregnant, Annie, the Millennial:

Without a phone, I’m like an animal without legs. You have to understand about people my age that we got phones before we had sex, we got phones before we got credit cards, before we started therapy, before we started drinking beer and coffee and two-for-one margaritas at the shitty bar down the street. I learned to drive by following the glowing blue arrow wherever it took me.

The author brings me back to the end stages of pregnancy like no other. And that was 26 years ago. On describing how most women find out they are pregnant in some bathroom:

“There you are. One of us walked into the bathroom, two of us walked out.��

“We are not ready to be mothers; we need mothers.��

The descriptions of her end stages taut belly and gripping pain - like no other pain in the world - had me instantly remembering the baby in my belly whose foot got stuck underneath my ribs for the last two weeks.

For some reason I did not save any of the more descriptive pregnancy parts.

I should leave with this though:

“A couch is like a mother, takes all your weight, asks nothing in return.��

Yep, another best of 2025 here. It won’t be for everyone. I will just give a little whisper to Monica. Could this be something you’d like?