John and Marsha were sitting on a rowboat, not rowing, just letting the gentle ripples of the pond ease them along. They had nowhere they wanted to go. Everything they wanted was right here.
With a breath of night air, John whispered into Marsha’s ready ear, “You matter to me.”
Marsha whispered back, “You antimatter to me,” and they kissed. All around them, air melted, water dissolved, and what remained of time and space bolted from the universe in an explosion without fire. Their bodies clung to each other with a force stronger than gravity, stronger than the bonds that hold atoms together. They fell into a singularity, leaving the old universe behind, starting from scratch, so that everything that ever happened would be in their embrace. Stars and planets would form. Within them, life. New lovers would discover each other, even as the edges of the universe grew more distant. And eventually, two more lovers would sit together on a rowboat, not rowing, and the gentle ripples of what remained of John and Marsha would push them together into a timespace of their own.
Post Modern Existential Horror 