“Oh god. Are you serious? No. No! I just- Why do you have to do this to me?”

“I mean it, I love you!”  He responds.

“Wipe that grin off your face. Do you have any idea how much shit you just got me into?”

“But you feel the same way, right? I mean I see the way that you look at me.”

“Jesus, Mark, stop! Nevermind, I’ll do the talking.”

There’s a long, sullen silence. Mark sighs, looking up at the ceiling. Margot starts pacing, trying to rack her brain as to where to go next. Mark pulls out his last cigarette and places it between his lips. He squeezes the filter between his lips like an expert: not putting too much pressure in his face, but still firm enough that the cigarette stays still. Before he lights it, he gestures towards his lighter.

“No, thank you. God- and you smoke? Who smokes anymore?”

“The Marks of the world smoke.”

“My stepfather is named Mark and he doesn’t smoke.”

“Is that why you will not fall in love with me?”

“What?”

“Your stepfather.” Margot puts her hand on her hips, trying to look anywhere but towards Mark.

“Well?” He replies.

“Well what?”

“Your stepfather.”

“What about him?”

“Is that why-”

“Didn’t I just say stop talking? Why are you talking?”

“I-”

“Shut up.”

Margot checks her watch and mutters a curse under her breath. She was running out of time.

She starts “Listen. I asked you to come here for a reason, and that reason was not romantic.”

Mark nods his head, taking a long drag off of his cigarette. “Okay.”

“So I have something that I need to say, but I need you to let me say it.”

Mark crosses his arms, showing that he is compliant but far from accepting. “Go on then.”

Margot sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Before she can say anything, the sounds of distant shelling shake the building, concrete dust falling onto their heads. They get down to the ground and lay flat, covering the backs of their necks as the barrage continues to get closer. The building shakes more and more, building to an earthquake that continues for a while longer than the shelling withstands. Margot rushes to a window and looks for any helicopters. No signs of floating orbs of light, or three-dot triangles coasting across the horizon. She slumps for a second and turns around. She has less time than she thought.

“Damn, where was I?”

“You were just about to confess your love to me.”

“I wanted to say that it’s been a long three days.”

“It has.”

“We have been through a lot together, seen a lot together.”

“We have.”

“I- I’m just going to get to the point.”

“I am in no rush.”

Men begin shouting outside of the building, and Mark tackles Margot to the ground just before a flashlight beam cuts through the window. As soon as the beam passes, Mark and Margot rise, scrambling for the trap door in the back of the house. They slide down the ladder, not even touching the rungs, and they run, crouching through the dirt tunnel that they had dug for this express purpose. Unlit, they had to use their hands to run across the edges of the wall to anticipate curves and turns. They did this for what seemed like hours, all the while asking themselves if they have been discovered: did they find their hideout? The shelling continues, making the ground beneath them reverberate to the point where the ground almost gives way under their weight. Wordlessly, they continue until they see a small light. 

The tiny dot grew until it became a lantern underneath another trap door. Margot goes first, peeking from underneath the door. She scans what she can see. No boots, no signs of disturbance, but all she can see is the four feet of her couch and a long, orange rug. Taking a chance, she opens the door and pulls herself out of the opening. She turns and reaches for Mark, helping him to his feet. They look at each other, and scatter to the boarded up windows. No helicopters, no planes. Mark slides down from the wall, sitting on his butt up against it. Margot stands with her hands on her hips. 

Mark looks up innocently. “What were you going to tell me?”

Margot shakes her head, just remembering. “Oh yeah.” she pants. “I might have killed the prime minister.”