Ross heard a commotion at the square. He went over, finding young adults of both sexes - plus a few more variations, if you believe such things - taunting a street preacher.
"Abortion is murder," proclaimed the preacher, his voice amplified through microphone and speaker.
"My body, my choice!" young adults with wombs screamed back at him.
"But it's not your body," insisted the preacher.
"My body, my choice!" screamed the empty wombs.
"From the first cell formed after conception, the foetus DNA is different from that of the mother - so abortion is murder," repeated the preacher.
"My body, my choice!" screamed the empty wombs.
Now standing in front of the man, Ross turned to face the baying crowd. He held up both hands in a plea for silence.
The screaming subdued.
"Right at this moment," he announced, "I should have a twenty-six-year-old and a twenty-one-year-old walking the face of this Earth."
The crowd started to murmur among themselves.
Ross continued, "I consented to the first termination, albeit reluctantly, and may God forgive me for that, but I walked out of my relationship with the woman after the second."
He left the now deathly silent square, left the empty wombs standing with arms now crossed subconsciously over their stomachs.
