“I said seven, I said you had to be here at seven,” Steven says. Mark sighs in frustration. “No, you didn’t! You said I had to leave at seven,” he says. “Why would I tell you to leave at seven? I don’t care at what time you leave as long as you’re here on time. Which was seven. You were supposed to be here to help carry the casket with us because Arnie isn’t strong enough to hold one side by himself. You know he strains easily. That’s why you had to be there,” Steven lectures. “I’m sorry about Arnie, all right? If only I’d have known it started at seven instead of eight, I would’ve been here. I really thought you told me to leave at seven, I guess I just heard it wrong,” Mark says. “Whatever man, it’s too late now. Things happen. Now, let’s go to the hospital. Poor Arnie. The guy’s like a skeleton, I don’t know who hired him,” Steven says. “Thierry, must have been Thierry,” Mark says. “Or Sandra, old Sandra,” Steven says. “What happened, though? Did you guys drop the casket?” “Almost,” Steven says, “gave the family a thrill, not gonna lie. Thing is, if we’d get fired, there’d be no staff.” “We really carry this organization on our backs,” Mark says. “Tonight, you didn’t,” Steven says. “I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?” “You can never be late again,” Steven says. “Aye-aye, sir,” Mark says.

Sigh. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go. My thoughts out loud on a screen. That doesn’t make sense, I would like to scream. My mind is tense. Trust me, I’m calm. Still water, almost frozen. That calmness. Before the storm? The calm. Maybe, before the storm. Because I don’t want to go.

My chest, it aches. My breath, I can’t hear it. Too many takes, in my head. Scenes, with words to say. I imagine, in my head. For me to say to you. But don’t talk about it. Don’t talk to me about it. I don’t want you to talk to me about it.

My bags are packed. My heart is wrecked. I hate to see it. I hate that it’s mine. And I know that it’s time. But I don’t want to go.

“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!”, said no one ever. Happy people don’t exist in this world. At least not in the one where I’m from. Absolutely ridiculous. “Happiest person in the world”. Who even thinks of that? So imaginative. Call me bitter, I like the taste. No tanginess whatsoever. Sappy and squishy. Yuck.

“There is something I feel like I have to tell you, but I don’t know if I should, because I actually don’t want to. And I have never said this to anyone, out loud. Not even myself, like, these words have never come out of my mouth before. So, it’s kind of hard, but this thing I want to tell you is just weighing so heavily on my chest it’s making it hard for me to breathe.” “Alex?” “Yeah?” “Breathe.” “All right.” “Are you ready?” “For what?” “Whatever you were leading up to with your monologue.” “Right. It was not a mon- You know, never mind. Here goes… I like you. In a way I’ve never liked anyone before. And I don’t know if you know or if you feel the same, but- I don’t know. I guess I just felt like you needed to know, ‘cause otherwise, I’d be lying to you. And I don’t want to lie to you, because, well, it’s you. And I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.” “Why are you apologizing?” “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I just thought- No. What do you think? Am I totally ridiculous? Shoud I have kept this to myself? Is this stupid? You don’t like me back, though, do you?” “I feel flattered that you’d think of me as someone being worthy of having a crush on. I think it’s sweet and I don’t want you to beat yourself up for this ‘cause there’s nothing you could do about it, but, no. I don’t feel the same way.” “That’s- It’s… fine. Totally fine. Now, I’ve just made this an awkward moment and I’d like to jump off a cliff, but you just said you don’t want me to beat myself up and I’m not sure if you meant that literally or figuratively, so I’m trying anyway, but I wish I could because I think it might… hurt… less.” “I’m sorry.” “What? No, this is not your fault.” “And it’s not yours either.” “Right, so if it’s nobody’s fault, then, what should we do? What are we supposed to do?” “Those are two different questions I don’t have the answers to.”