The Postmortal

by Drew Magary

Death is what makes us humble before God—knowing that our lives will come to an end and that when that end arrives we will be forced to answer for them. If we answer not to Him, to whom do we answer? Death is the only thing keeping us in line.”

I couldn’t be around her without feeling like a hurricane someone trapped in a box, so I made her breakfast and left her alone as quickly as I could. My brain stayed dialed into her frequency every waking second thereafter, and I don’t think that’ll be changing anytime soon.

I moved to her and began kissing her. Engulfing her. I wanted to squeeze her until her brain popped out of her head. She kissed me back, and the sky fell down and the universe got sucked into a black hole until it was just the size of us and so dense that a trillion years couldn’t even begin to erode it.

“I know there’s no heaven. I know it all turns to nothingness. But I fear there will be some remnant of me left within that void. Left conscious by some random fluke. Something that will scream out for this. That one speck of my soul will still exist and be left trapped and wanting. For you. For the light. For anything.”

“God, I never saw you coming, Solara. And that’s what makes you so fucking perfect. Please, Solara. You have to go.”