By Danika Vergaraabreu


   “What was that sound?” Mary wondered. She listened closely in the silence, attempting to make out the noise.

   “Oh, that’s probably just the ambiance machine,” said Benjamin. “Charlie needs it to fall asleep.”

   Mary nodded, humming to herself in response. She walked down the stairs alongside her husband. The house grew quieter and quieter with each step they took. The rabbits plastered along the wall ran down the steps until they all formed into one, sitting down peacefully at the bottom of the staircase.

I’m sorry, I can’t keep doing this.


“What? Hey, where are you-”


This isn’t doing it for me anymore.


“You can’t just leave. You have to finish.”


Along with other work to finish. I don’t have time for this.


“Hey! Hey! No, it was just getting interesting!”


Descriptive wise.


“I wanna know what happens to the kid, and Mary, and that Benjamin.”


You wanna know what happens next?


“Well yeah!”


   Benjamin turned to his wife. “Mary, is there something wrong?”

   Mary shook her head. “Not at all,” She took a sip of her coffee. “I guess I’m just getting used to all of this.”

   “Relax, you don’t have to rush yourself.”

   “That’s rich.”


   “I don’t have to rush myself, and yet somehow without even a moment’s notice, I ended up becoming your wife and your son’s mother in less than a year. I just walked into your life, and I was yours. I didn’t even walk, I just talked to myself and you showed up.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?”


The story.


“No, no, no, right here. What is this?”


It’s the story.




I think.


   “I remember. Our little meet-cute.” Benjamin said.

   “What meet-cute? What memory? I don’t even remember how I met Charlie. I don’t even know where you’re from. I don’t even know how I became your wife. I don’t even know who you are!”

   Benjamin laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like us.”

   “Are you even listening to what I’m saying? Do you even know who I am? Who… Who am I?”

   Benjamin walked up toward Mary, putting his hands softly over hers. He looked up at her, eyes loving.

   But there was no life.
  “You’re Mary.”