People rarely get what they don’t deserve.
“What time is it?” she inquires. “Nine-thirty,” he obliges. “Motherfucker.” “Yea.” “Well, what do you wanna do now?” “Ugh.” “You could bore me,” she winks with a little body-to-body teaser. “Oh,” he perks. “I love good boring company,” she flirts. “I live to bore,” he retorts. She rolls her eyes. “To the subway then,” he announces as he grabs her hand and runs her to the nearest subway station home.
“Tremble, sure, at the fear and uncertainty of no longer living, of a life stolen from you by some unknown thing that drags or catapults you from life, into death. Or remember that, perhaps, death penetrates life so that you may be freed from it. Perhaps life represents the hellscape that you desperately desire to avoid. Perhaps Death, a friend, pulls longingly for your company and enriches your existence.”