Cactus Country (fiction)

Bitterzoet Magazine , August 2016

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I met her during her Texas phase. That’s why we were standing by a patch of purple prickly pear when she told me.

I’d just cut her off a huge hunk, the part with the most flowers and least spikes, and dropped it in the plastic bag, which was getting holes in it from all the other hunks of cactus in there. She put one of her small hands on my shoulder and I looked up. “I’m pregnant,” she said.

Just like that.