Fertility

She marvels at the geometry of her own body, although not in a narcissistic way. It’s not the mirror she’s falling love with; it’s that improbable jackpot in the evolutionary lottery, just how efficient, functional, and still somehow aesthetically pleasing it all is. Her body is all planes and spheres, mathematically precise perspective in the lines of her bones. Her hips are nothing but a careful juxtaposition of incomplete bodies, glued together from the inside by an immanent heat, a calculated amount of power and potential. A single drop of blood rolls down her inner thigh.