The First to Die at the End

by Adam Silvera

I’d rather be planets apart as long as she’s still breathing on the other side of the galaxy.

I write short stories because I am one. I wish I was a novel. Breaths away from midnight, I know my final chapter is close. I look up at Valentino, wondering what life could’ve offered if I had more pages in me.

I was wrong to think I no longer have a life to run for. I do. It’s just not my own.

I could finally become a novel instead of a short story.