He walked among the market stalls, pretending to ignore the whispering and giggling women. His relaxed demeanor, handsome features, and ready smile meant no female in the town missed his weekly sermons and the church's coffers were overflowing of late. Feeling a touch on his sleeve, he turned and his smile disappeared. Looking first left and right, he angrily spat, "I told you to never speak to me again!" She blinked, her long lashes brushing her cheeks, and said, "But, I need to talk to you." Leaning closer, she paused, and lowered her voice. "You see, I'm dying.” She said it blithely, quickly, before she had a chance to think about what she was saying. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You look healthy enough to me.”, he replied gruffly. “What do you know?! You don’t know anything!”, she said, then began to cry. The tears weakened his resolve to be firm, and he patted the sleeve of her dress lightly, now unsure of how he should proceed. She stood there and cried, now sobbing, until finally he pulled her with him into an unoccupied market stall for some privacy. “Now, what’s this about you dying?”, he asked, almost gently. “It’s true…… I have cancer of…..my womanly parts.”, she said softly. “How can you be sure? Have you seen a doctor?”, he asked. “No, but I just know.”, she said. “I feel….different. I’ve never felt like this before.” “But why cancer? Why not some other female complaint?”, he asked. “I don’t know……I just know.”, she whispered. “Are you going to help me?”, she asked. “Help you do what? Find a doctor?”, he asked. “Well, that….and whatever your kind does for someone who’s dying.” “Have you told anyone besides me of your suspicions?”, he asked. “No.” “Well, then, let’s find a doctor to confirm it one way or the other.” He led her to a small building, apart from the maket stalls. Patting her hand, he pushed her inside the door. “This should be an answer to your question.”, he said. A short while later, after suffering the embarrassment of the doctor’s Intimate examination, she stood outside the door again. He snuffed out a cigarette he was smoking and smiled at her. “Well?” “I am not dying, but I might as well be. I’m pregnant.”, she said softly. “I only said I was dying because it was the only way you’d speak to me.” “And? What would you have me say?”, he asked. “Why, that you’ll marry me. Marry me and give our child a name.” “You make it sound so simple.” “It WAS simple, when I shared my body with you. Why isn’t it simple now?”, she wanted to know. “Leave me to think!”, he hissed. “Alright! Just don’t think until the baby’s ready to be born.”, she said, tears in her eyes as she leaves him standing alone.
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