Laura held her in her arms. She was drained and tired. Still she forced a smile. It was the happiest day of her life.

“Oh my god, she is so tiny.” Laura whispered to her husband. Casimir placed his hand over hers in a comforting manner and kissed her forehead.

“Yes honey. She is. The nurse will arrive shortly. Soon she will be in safe hands.”

Although the law prohibits from verbalizing names, Laura mentally rehearsed this scene a million times over the past few months and named her Tiffany. Casimir took the neonate in his arms.

“Ssshh…,” he whispered. Tiffany was barely 20 or 22 inches throwing her tiny arms like an enraged velociraptor. He took the corner of the swaddling and wiped the residue of the bloodstain as she sunk deeper in her blanket like a mummy.

Casimir, or as his friends called him Caz, whipped out his phone and turned the settings of the camera to face him. All he wanted to do is take a quick selfie of this cherished moment.

“I am sorry sir. No pictures allowed.” A burly silhouette stood by the door. She had brown curls and wore a kid-friendly printed gown with the nametag dangling from her neck. It read in big bold font: ‘Sharon’.

“My apologies.” Caz was flustered. Or at least, he feigned so.

“Well,” the nurse softened her lips and gave out a big smile: “She is healthy. All the vitals are okay. Mom is safe. You guys are good to go!”

“Thank you,” Caz smiled back.

“The social worker will be here soon. If you have any other concerns and queries, you can always contact him later. He is a jolly fellow and I am sure you folks won’t have any trouble whatsoever in this transition period.”

“Perfect!”

Laura slowly turned her neck to get a good view of the nurse. How can she do this on a day to day basis! She thought in a somber tone. She must be a special breed!

“Arighty then. As long as you sign here we will finalize the whole process. By the way, Dr. Richardson said ‘hi’. He is extremely pleased with the whole procedure.”

“Lovely!” Said Caz. He took the clipboard with the forms and scrawled a Hancock on the highlighted sections of all the seven pages.

It was indeed one of the happiest days of their lives.

~

Marcus slammed the table. His friend Boris wasn’t entirely too happy with his sudden presence like an apparition.

“How many times I have to tell you Piotr that business is tough in this economy!” Marcus shifted his tone from aggression to that of a plea. “Please, I beg you. This will be the last time. I promise.”

Of course, society looked down upon his profession. His father was a toymaker and he inherited the fortune at sixteen when he passed away. Although he had no gift in the craftsmanship, he poured his soul into the business growing it into ton of franchises in the forties. Business acumen? That he did. But then the laws were passed and the climate changed. Slowly the whole infrastructure from his wholesale warehouses and the industry evaporated into thin air.

No one bought toys anymore. Economy was rough and toys were as obsolete as whirligigs and hopscotch. Even janitors had more prestige than toymakers in this day and age.

“I can’t Marky… I really can’t this time.”

“Come’on Piotr. I beg you. I promise I will pay you back by the end of this month.”

“My friend… you don’t understand. I myself have children to feed. What? You think I enjoy my job as a stenographer? Hah! I barely make peanuts. You know how life has been difficult since Casandra left. Forgive me my friend. I can’t this time.”

Marcus prostrated and grabbed him by his shin. “Please my friend. Make an exception this time. I will go away for ever. I promise… you won’t even sniff my scent anywhere in Siberia.”

Piotr Boris gave an exhalation of defeat. He got up, walked to the cabinet and opened the drawer. Four neatly stacked fat bills were laying in the small, casket-like mahogany box. He grabbed one of the wads and opened the door.

The silence said it all. Marcus has overstayed his welcome. He silently took the loan and left. This should cover his expense for the rent; but he still needs to pay a visit to the bank.

~

As the sedan quietly glided through the city, a cloud of gloominess casted Caz’s face. Happy? How happy can they really be? There was not a soul on the street. It looked like another desolate ghost town from Wichita. The bricks loosely fell from all ruins of the buildings which were mostly schools - which are now home to junkies and what not.

They rode quietly for 40 minutes. Laura was in the backseat and discharged early. She was tightly grabbing a small teddy bear and couldn’t bear to keep her composure intact and burst out in tears.

Caz looked at the rear view mirror. Stoically he gave out a small sigh. ‘Flatten the curve. We are all in this together.’ A friendly public service reminder flickered digitally on the billboard.

“We will make through this honey.” Finally he broke the silence. The silence which was eerily enveloped with the outside stillness. Not a single kid was seen outside playing as they drove past the playground.

~

Ferris and Joe were recently married. They were the talk of the town at this part of North Hollywood since they were both incredibly good looking. Adonis marrying Hermes! It seemed like they were made for each other. Even though Nita didn’t believe in twin flames, she really thought they were the perfect couple.

A SUV pulled over in front of a small Spanish villa. Nita lived with her boyfriend and the relationship was going strong for three years. She lugged four plastic bags of clothes dragging them one by one in front of the car. Although the back was filled with the couples’ own boxes of clothes, she motioned them to open the trunk. She tucked one of the bags and dropped the others in the backseat.

“Heya guys!” She greeted them as she dropped on the seat pulling the belt over her. “What took you so long?”

“Oh we ran into a small traffic jam… apparently some mom was about to jump off that bridge by Milksensen’s Avenue. The spectacle held up the cars.”

“Ah I see!” Nita quietly remarked. “Another day, another event, huh?”

“Yup.” Ferris agreed.

Nita didn’t say anything. She was half-Indian by birth and the last time she went back to her family’s home was to pray at Agra for a child. She brushed away that memory and lightly slapped Ferris’ shoulders. “So! What have you guys been up to lately?” She faked a cheerful tone and tried to change the subject. Suddenly she didn’t feel the least bit shame for infertility.

~

When the trio arrived at the recycling center warehouse, there was a long line already. Fast fashion was a major problem. And public were encouraged to bring as many satchels of clothing as possible to redeem the coupon for restaurant meal voucher.

There were clothes everywhere. The entire depot was grouped into chunks and at each station there was a representative who sorted out the clothes. From diapers to bibs, vests to jackets, shoes to scarfs… it was a fashion mayhem. Ferris thought he has never seen so many surplus of attire before. At one place.

Of course, most of the clothes were that of infants and kids. They grow up so fast don’t they? Pondered Joe.

~

In Peru, qhapaq hucha was practiced. Abipones, a Paraguayan group in the eighteenth century practiced this same systematic custom. As was practiced in Benin and among the villagers in Gimi region in Papua New Guinea. As did the Ugi people of Solomon Islands and it is acknowledged that the Yukon and Mahlemuit tribes from Alaska exposed the female newborns stuffing their mouths with grass before leaving them to rot. In the arctic regions of Canada the Inuit, similarly, exposed their infants on the ice leaving them to freeze. Ritual killing of children or infanticide has been practiced at all corners of the globe since time memorial.

‘Flatten the curve.’

Caz looked at the sign while driving past a large barren land where rows and rows of waste management trucks were dumping basketful full of flesh.

Laura looked at it too.

‘Flatten the curve. We are in it together.’

We will get past this, right honey? Laura thought. She sighed. She exhaled slowly and looked away.

The distant blue truck that was pouring babies after writhing babies in a ditch as men and women shoveled them aside silently glinted as the rear view mirror reflected the blazing sun. Suddenly, it looked so beautiful she thought.

We will get past this. She thought. Definitely we will.

THE END