Fiction 42

“This sucks you know. I hate not being able to touch you, see you whenever I want.” she mumbles into the phone.

“Well, it’s not like either of us is going to die tomorrow. ”

Such a romantic you are. Did all your ex-girlfriends fall for that line?”

“Not only did they fall for it, they used to sing me to sleep. Unlike a certain someone.”

“You know I don’t sing. Let’s not go there. Where were we? Don’t change topics.”

You should talk!”

“What?! I never change topics. I talk about one and then it slowly transitions into another.”

“Yesterday you talked about curd rice and genocide in the same ten minutes!”

“Whatever. I want to see you. Like right now!”

“Okay. Close your eyes.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re right behind me. There’s no way in hell I’d believe that.”

“Will you shut the eff up and listen, for a change?” he grunts.

She listens. A lonely tear trickles down her cheek. “Yes?” she says.

“Close your eyes… And calmly think of me… Can you see me?”

“Yes.” she smiles.

“Remember that. Always. Am always around. I might not always be around you,  but I’ll always be with you.”

“Okay.” she beams.

“Now stop crying and go to sleep. I hate wet pillows.”

 

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