Sounds of beeps, wheels on the floor, the sound of shoppers, and the bland pop music playing quietly are all I hear. It's nice. I guess. "Your total is 133.47." the cashier tells me.

I swipe my card silently. "No receipt. Thanks." I mutter, grabbing the bags and heading for the exit.

Fresh out a divorce case that ended with my ex husband in jail, I'm a wreck. I was with him for six years. We decided to try for a baby two years into our marriage, and I had six miscarriages during that time up to now. At a family dinner, my brother in law found pills for miscarriages in his jacket. He had a mistress, and was using the money we made from those miscarriages to save for a house.

The worst part was that I had no idea. I dropped out of law school, took antidepressants, gained forty pounds, all while listening to him. I feel like a fool. A clown. Because I am one.

Now, I'm alone.