The drip-drip of the bathroom sink keeps drip-dripping all through the night, and as we touch and kiss beneath sheets that stick to our skin, I ask how it would make you feel if you knew tomorrow would be the last day of your life. As I push myself inside of you, and you look into my eyes while gasping, I create a situation and ask you to be truthful, because although I like lying, I do it to be creative, not to deny the truth, so be truthful with me, I say, or else I’ll stop giving it to you. You blink your eyes to say yes, that you understand. So I build into a steady rhythm, one that’s not too fast and not too slow. Every so often you let out another gasp, but you never avert your gaze or say a word. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I begin. You wake up tomorrow, and I’m at work. It’s your day off, and you’ve got the place to yourself. You laze around, have a little breakfast. Maybe take a shower. When you’re drying yourself off, you lie down upon the bed and switch on the TV. I know you don’t like watching TV in the bedroom, but stick with it. Anyway, the channel loads and it’s a breaking news story. You stop drying your hair and sit up. Scientists have discovered a comet is going to crash into Earth just before midnight. Somehow it was hidden- something scientific- it doesn’t matter, well it does, but whatever. Slipping a finger into your mouth, you gently suck as I continue. So the news reporter says it’s the end of the world. There are less than twelve hours left. Society has plunged into anarchy. Out on the streets, there’s looting and rioting. There’s rape being committed on a mass scale, and murder, too. People are turning into savages. And yet others are spending their last hours positively. There are vigils being held in places of worship. People are holding candles and swaying at the Eiffel Tower. They’re walking through woodland with loved ones. They’re climbing trees and drinking wine while looking up at the sky waiting for a glimpse of the comet that will wipe us all out. Imagine how it would feel, I ask. Imagine the sensations rushing through your body knowing that everything on the planet was going to die. That all your dreams and memories would be obliterated, that within hours of impact, no trace of you would be left. That all of your love and fears, your photographs and possessions- they would all be gone, just like everything else. That the memories and ghosts of everyone who ever lived- they too would be gone. That all the tears you’ve ever cried, and all smiles you’ve smiled would be wiped out of existence. No tomorrows or yesterdays. No meaning, only these last few hours. Looking up at me, I pull back the sheets and lift up your legs so they’re resting against my chest. Open-mouthed, you remain silent as I go harder. How does it make you feel to be nothing when faced with the vastness of the universe? What would you do knowing that all of this is in vain- that despite everything we do, we can’t escape being eaten alive by death? That despite all of our love, success, fears, journeys, friendships, drunken highs and breathless lows, despite all of this, we will go in the blink of an eye as the comet smashes apart the moon and then us? Saying nothing, you reach up a hand and place your finger on my lower lip. As I come, you push your hips against mine. Arching your back, you flash your teeth and dig your fingers into my chest. There are no words, but you tell me. You tell me everything, and as my body shudders and I collapse on top of you, you keep on speaking even when I grow limp and slide out. You speak even when I rest my head upon your belly and you take me in your arms. You speak when we’re sleeping, and you speak when we’re dreaming.

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