Till The End of The World
Deciding enough is enough, I push myself up from the chair, grabbing the napkin beside my plate and tossing it carelessly onto the table.
“Well then, Superman,” I say, stepping up to him. “For us to live in peace, let’s establish some rules.”
“Rule number one,” I begin, holding up a finger. “No staring.”
He doesn’t reply, so I take it as permission to continue.
“Rule number two,” I continue. “No following me everywhere.”
“That defeats the purpose of guarding you.”
“You can guard me from a reasonable distance.”
“Like?”
I wave vaguely upstairs. “Like me in my room and you in yours, doing whatever emotionally unavailable people do.”
Bab Populer