We stood in the middle of the woods, surrounded by weirdos and burnouts in bandanas, dancing, crazed, to the beat of drum music. You shuffled uncomfortably, your movements not in time with the rhythm, your face contorted into a sour glare.
"I'm leaving," you said, and you handed me a piece of paper. A flight itinerary. Fuck. I couldn't make out the words on the page, it's like they were in another language, and my throat started closing up in a panic.
"Leaving to where?" I asked.
"There's this field," you said, "this field in the middle of nowhere that I need to stand in the center of."
I stared at you.
"There's a portal there," you said. "To the next dimension. I finally found it."
I swallowed hard.
"Will you come back?"
"Don't try to stop me, okay?" Your only reply.
"Please hold me." My response. So you did. You held me there, in the middle of a dance party, suspended between time and space, your heart beating against the side of my face, louder and louder like a broken washing machine, until I was swallowed whole by it, eaten by the void and spit out again. I stood there with you as the lights grew dim, being recycled over and over again by the pumping of your breath and blood, hurtled to a point of light in the distance that spoke to me, and said, "Dust turns to dust, and ashes to ashes."
"I fucking love you," I said.
Your silence spoke the rest.
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