“Do you ever think about the end?” she asks quietly.
“that’s morbid.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
“I don’t mean death. I mean us. How do you think we’ll break up?” her voice breaks. Tears spill over and roll onto the pillow. She does not wipe them away.
“I don’t know” he says woodenly.
“But is it inevitable?” she pushes relentlessly.
“Yes.” His hand no longer holds hers. The sheets are a sea of distance. Their hearts do not know each other anymore.
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