young and infinite | a short story

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Summmer '16

"Can I ask you something?" They were lying on the floor in their usual spot. They lay next to each other, arms touching, sharing warmth, and staring at the ceiling. Neither of them had talked since Murphy had arrived.

Rose had ditched school after first period, and wasn't surprised to see Murphy nowhere to be found. He was probably at school, or something. It made her wonder how little she knew about this boy. She knew him more than anyone else, yet she never dared to ask questions. The wrong questions hurt. She herself knew that. She knew that answering difficult questions sucked, but ignoring them killed. She knew silence spoke more than a thousand words, and she wouldnt dare to shut Murphy up. She was afraid she'd find something out about him, or hurt him so much that he never came back. She didnt even know where he lived. She'd never met his parents, didn't know his mates, didn't know his favorite color or what TV shows he liked.

She knew nothing about him. Nothing important.

She didn't know when he'd be back, or where he currently was. So she pulled open the flakey red door, that wasn't as cool as she used to think it was, and climbed the stairs. The birds nest was long gone. One day it just fell down, from the sky, so to speak. There were no birds in it, thankfully, but they never came back either.

There was nothing interesting about this place anymore. The pink blanket was still there, she never took it back, but it was worn at the edges and had an unidentifiable smear in the left corner. Even though it was more comfy, she opted to crouch on the floor which turned into sitting and then into lying.

Murphy came in a while later -Rose wasnt sure how long it had been- and just lay there with her. He didn't talk or ask her why she was lying as she was. He didn't wriggle to get comfortable or breath loud enough to be heard.

He knew her too well.

"Can I ask you something," Rose said, as aforementioned. She had been thinking for a long time, too long in fact. She felt paranoid, scared that she could disappear in her mind for so long that she wouldn't even hear Murphy come in. And paranoid to the extent that she didn't know what was real or just in her head.

"Do you believe in 'ever after'?" she asked. Her throat felt dry, as if she had been screaming too much, or as if someone had sucked out all the liquid in her body.

"As in infinity?" Murphy asked. His voice felt lighter, more bouncy. It soothed her headache. It held her to reality, stopping her from floating away. "I'm not sure," he continued, although Rose showed no sign of approval. "I find it hard to believe that time will never run out."
Like an hourglass, she thought.

"So you don't believe in life after death?"

"No." Murphy said. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his head tilt towards her. He wore his signature smile which disappeared when he saw her. He saw her pale cheeks, he saw her messy blonde hair, but he also saw her red rimmed eyes and he saw how they twitched, as if she were about to burst. "But imagine how full it would be up there with.." he paused, "people."

"You don't believe in heaven?" She asked. She could feel the tears build up but she didn't know why.

"I don't understand the concept of it, no."

You're supposed to say yes, she thought. You're supposed to comfort me, make me feel a little less crazy.

Rose had this idea. This idea of life after death. Of no death at all. She had this idea of staying in a dream loop, where no one ever really left.

She read something once that talked of what happens after you die. It said your brain has seven minutes left before it shut downs with the rest of your body. And it lets you relive your whole life, in 'real' time.