What We Keep

by Jennifer Millikin

What brought me here, to this emerald green velvet couch, isn't the low point of my story. It is one of many low points, a rock bottom that continually turns out to have another layer beneath it.

“Baby, we’re in trouble.” I kiss the space beside his ear, my heart flip-flopping at how he called me baby. “What kind of trouble?” “The kind that buries you alive, and all you can do is hope rescue never arrives.” “I like that idea.” “Being buried alive?” “Being inundated. That’s what I want to be. Inundated with you. By you.”