We sit in his childhood bed with the lights off.
“We break up, we get married, or we die, okay?” I reply. “That’s how all relationships end. So if we break up, well, at least that’s better than death.”
“Kind of morbid, don’t you think?”
“No,” I say. “Kind of optimistic.”
This post is part of the A-Z Challenge. My theme is April Scribble, which includes microfiction, small vignettes, and poetry.
For more alphabetical goodness, click here.