Tomorrow

She could still see his face when he asked, struggling with the internal debate.

“Do you ever ask yourself how it ends?”

It didn’t matter that she had; the question still felt like a punch in the stomach, even after having time to digest it. It was a logical question, and she was a logical girl. He was only voicing what she knew was an inevitable question.

Here in the dark, with just her own head replaying the conversation, she felt that tightness in her chest. It was too late to be ambivalent, and for as much as she told him “you just need to tell me when it’s time to stop,” she secretly hoped that day would always be some other day. Remembering his face, she was pretty certain he wanted that to be some other day too.

There was a point when “stop” wouldn’t have hurt. Right now, she couldn’t remember when that point was anymore. She only knew that she wanted one more tomorrow. And the price she’d pay for one more tomorrow would be a little more hurt, eventually.

So she lay back on the pillow, closed her eyes, opened her heart a little wider, and admitted to herself that she cared enough to deal with the pain. Even though it could hurt more tomorrow that it could hurt today.

She felt the tear slide down her cheek; heard it hit the pillow. “Tomorrow,” she thought.