“You…” pondered one.
“You…” realized the other.
They met eyes, gazing longingly across an immeasurable distance, a once infinite expanse of time and space now rendered traversable by a mere snap’s breadth of chance.
“How did we even…”
“When was the last we even…”
“If you show me your chrono logics…”
“I’ll show you mine…”
They finished each other’s sentences—thoughts.
“What universe is this?”
“Which epoch is it even?”
“Does it even matter now?” Said both rhetorically, simultaneously beckoning each other through cascading iridescent afterglows of collapsing stars.
And it didn’t matter—because when they kissed—all time stopped.
Coby Rosser is a weathered IT Guy from the southeastern US. When time permits he writes speculatively and plays classical guitar. Some of his stories have appeared, or are upcoming, at Apparition Literary Magazine, Wyngraf, and in various Shacklebound Books anthologies. Tweet him @paperninjaman
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