“I can’t even walk around here!” she screamed. “I’m drowning in babies!” She picked up one foot, slowly, and placed it beside a screaming toddler. Her knees buckled. She tried not to fall. “Where did all these children come from anyway?!” She picked up a block of legos and tossed it to the side. As far as she could see there was nothing but screaming babies, crawling all over the ground, stretched out to the end. She didn’t know what to do with all of them. She thought about the legos, and regretted that she had not given it to a little girl, or placed it in the center of the room to allow all the infants to gender-identify themselves in a way that was pleasant. Babies. She ran a hand over her flat stomach, over her pert breasts, her slender waist. Babies. “And where have all the lovers gone?” One thousand babies from one thousand lovers. “I’ll teach them all a different language, I’ll give them all a separate religion,” she thought. “I’ll name them all after flowers, French and English ones.” She lay herself down in the babies. She lay herself down and she slept. She dreamt there were no babies. No babies.