RINA

Mammà, I had been told, had a difficult pregnancy. She hadn't been fortunate at all in all of her feminine metabolites. From a breast lump that nearly claimed her life at a tender age of sixteen to the scanty periods that had occupied her every thought. I hadn't been easy with her as a fetus, and when the time came to be pushed out, Irefused to come forth.

Right now, all I could think of was how fucked up it had been for her and me to have survived. The umbilical cord around my neck could have saved me all of life's cruelty. It would have spared Mammà the...