Meeting him was chance.
Fucking him was fate.
It’s not every day that I post an add on Craigslist in search of a friend for the end of the world, but this day was different.
I was feeling particularly lonely, considering the pandemic brewing outside my windows, and the empty space on the right side of my bed. Is this really how I will go? I often thought this before, but now more than ever I found myself desperate for someone to be on the other side of the table during breakfast -reading the newspaper and sipping their morning cup of terribly strong black coffee.
That is what you need when the world is ending, of course—someone to drink black coffee with.
Anyway, I found myself scouring my phone for contacts long forgotten, hopeful that one would strike a chord, but no such luck. Most of them were married, gay, or in denial of whatever STD they had contracted over the weekend at some college party they had long out aged. No thanks.