B.
I remember the day I became a Woman. It was when a clay sculpture fell off my shelf, down onto my dressing table, and due to gravity’s collision, shattered into several pieces. I had had the sculpture since birth; it had followed me in every room I had slept within. A great half moon figure with drowsy eyes and a dozing smile, sprayed gold by mother and forever watching over me as I slept as a baby, an infant, a young lady. But I am a Woman now, and it need not watch over me any longer.
