Right now, your ice cold fingertips are the only thing between me and certain death. Ironically, the only thing between you and certain continued survival is… me.

In retrospect, I actually don’t know exactly where I went wrong. Somewhere along the line, I must have taken a wrong turn or two to land myself so directly in this position, completely opposite to where I started out. I thought I was right then, and I think I’m right now. But who even knows? Who even cares? Who are the bad guys, who are the good guys? Who judges what ends justify which means and if how you do something is more important than getting it done right? I could have started out that way. Maybe it just took a while to finally manifest, cut through the clutter and confusion to find the truth that was always really there. Whatever the path was, it lead me here to this moment.

Speaking of which, focusing might be a good idea right now.

“We seem to have a bit of a problem,” you say coolly. I could throttle you, but I smile instead.

“So it seems.”

Problem indeed. How could one possibly hold so much power and yet be so intensely powerless? Kind of like back when we were in high school. I held your hand and you held mine in the good old summertime, but when the shady lanes turned to dark alleys, your hands were stiff and cold. Opportunities come and gone.

“You know, at some point you’re going to have to make a decision.”

“I know.”

God, it’s cold out. Never mind this jacket, the one you got for my birthday last year. Seems like a century ago now with all that’s happened since then. I mean, you can come to expect change, but soon it starts coming at you fast and hard and rolling with the punches isn’t as easy as it had been. Reflexes slow and bad decisions come with them if you’re not careful. Guess I wasn’t careful enough. Never asking questions, taking you at your word, now those — those were mistakes. Makes me wonder, if the close few were actually the furthest, then what could I expect from the others?

There’s really only one way out of this.

“Allie?”

“Yeah.”

“How are those fingers holding up?”

“Interesting choice of phrase.”

“Just checking.”

Silence again. However this turns out, that was our last fight. Like I haven’t heard that one before.

“Allie?”

“What?”

- Exasperated.

“I’m really sorry about what I said.”

A brief silence.

“So am I.”

“I’m going to go now. ”

“No, you’re not.”

“I love you, Allie.”

“I know.”

A bitter laugh finds its way out of my throat.

“All right, then. This is the way it is.”

I’m not sure what to think as the bullets pass through my chest, throwing me to the floor. Even the smallest decisions, you say, make and break the world. With the last bit of energy, I look up at you, smiling. One world broken, the last one crumbling. One word comes out, but my last words were never spoken.