Take a Bite

We are in the bunker, the two of us. Alone. My only wish had been to be alone with him. Now I am. Now he notices me. He’s not impressed. I used to believe that facing death together would make him see he loved me. His kisses would bring inevitable rescue. I had been an idiot, unaware that death, or even the threat of death, is not romantic.

Still, here we were. I persisted, put my hand out to touch his tissue thin t-shirt. It felt soft, like it had been washed a thousand times. My hand snaked under the shirt, found his skin, felt his rib.

“There’s no food here. What if they don’t come for us?” he said while brushing my hand aside, turning away. Always away.

“I have an apple,” I said.





Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.