“This just… it isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”

“It’s not meant to be easy, it’s meant to be final.”

“I know, I just thought… I guess I thought that there would be all of you here and I’d feel that… connection. I’d feel like I’d met someone who understood me”

“But we’re just people, aren’t we?”


“Oh, dry your eyes. We could, you know, make friends, talk about our feelings. We could buy matching shoes, get apartments not too far from one another. People in bars could know our names until you met the one. And I met my one. We could have kids, boys for you, girls for me. We could joke about them getting married until they hit us. We could work for forty hours a week and make much less than we’re worth.

“We could get boob jobs or calf implants. We could look younger and fight death and terrorism and gravity while we’re at it. We could be good people who went to services every Friday morning, looking up at the glowing cathedral’s saints and thinking what an improbable lie it had all been and know that those thoughts alone would get you thrown out. And then where would you be?”

“That’s really the best we can aspire to?”

“Yes,” he whispered as he poured the laundry detergent into the bath soap. The fumes were sweet like roses gone moldy. The car was small so it didn’t take long for the hydrogen chloride to fill the confined space.

There wasn’t much choking, just a soft sobbing. A crumpled goodbye note fell from a cooling hand, dropping beneath the seats.

I don’t know where to start.

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