Laura Pretend

by Ari Collins

You’re the only one I know who’d be good at your own funeral. You’d tell all of your favorite stories, and we’d pretend they were new. You’d hug everyone, and later you’d say too loudly, “I can’t believe all my exes were there and there wasn’t blood!”

But that’s pretend. Really, you’d miss your own funeral in a self-inflicted haze of one sort or another. Later, you’d apologize, and we’d all pretend to accept it.

I’m still waiting for that apology.

Go back to Ari’s Microfiction.

Or you could go a step further up to Ari’s Fiction.

Or all the way back to Air Theremin.

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