Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. I do not own any of the characters from the franchise. I do not own the series, even though the thought is nice. I do however, own this plot, and the original concept behind this plot.

So uh…this was a long time coming. I've had this drafted for quite some time. This and the aftermath are quite the doozy, so I'm breaking them up so you guys can have things a little bit quicker. Of course as a general reminder that this is an alternative take (and a completely different Naruto universe) on the novel that I'm writing, so all positive feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Also gentle reminder that my characters will be a bit OC since they're being based off of my own.

For Danielle, who claims she's a bit bored to sleep. Maybe this will help keep you awake for a little while longer. Thank you for giving me the push to continue on with this.

Trigger warning: Talk of suicide.

Some people say that they think that they will end up living on forever. That they will never die. They call it immortality. They say that immortality is the key to eternal youth. Now, now I'm hoping that those people aren't so sure of themselves anymore.

Today, is just another day that statement has once again been proven wrong, and that it will always be something that is proven wrong no matter who is going to sit there and try to argue it. Immortality is nothing but a lie thought to be wrapped in beautiful sparkling wrapping paper adorned with a bright red floppy bow. The fountain of youth clearly does not exist. There is no magic potion that could be drunk. No anything. Death is real. Death is something that happens, and this is something that everyone needs to face at the end of the day when they rest their heads down on their pillows when they lie down to go to sleep at night.

I could sit here and say the stereotypical things that everyone has already said, or that they have already probably sat there and thought. I could sit here and I could say that I never actually expected myself to be sitting here at her funeral. That I never pictured this coming. That I thought that everything with what I had last heard was going on that she was going to be okay and pull through whatever it was she was going through like she always had. I could say a lot of things.

But truth be told, my mind is at a complete standstill.

Being here, seeing her body in that casket. All thoughts that I had when I walked into here are gone.

I can just hope that she is happier now than she was when she was alive.

"Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, and mortal life shall cease; I shall possess within the veil, a life of joy and peace." I picked up on the choir singing Amazing Grace.

How ironic.

I looked over to where her family was sitting in the front, and took notice of her mother clinging onto one of her son's arms, trying to keep the composure she was so well known for having in her family. I honestly can't wrap my head around how she is able to be here, and do this all right now with her youngest child lying dead in a casket in the front of the room, almost as though she was put on an elaborate display for everyone to see.

Like, "Look at us, even though we never showed that we cared about her, we are going to give you guys the impression that we really did."

Something that in the back of my mind I knew that the girl I once considered a friend wouldn't have wanted. She was a very private person, and didn't like anyone really knowing any of her business or anything about her.

I could tell that her mother was trying to be as normal as she could be during this time, ignoring her husband as usual like it had always been described to me in the past. Trying to be the matriarch of her family that she always had been.

I could tell that it was all an act.

I would know. Pain isn't something that one can hide so easily.

Growing up, I have always found it rather unusual for there to be a choir at a funeral service. I have always taken this these as more solemn events. Something that should be handled in silence with the utmost respect for the dead and for the family of the deceased. We aren't here for the big fancy choirs, or the ringing of the bells or any of that. We are here for this person. This person, who lived their life to its fullest in whatever manner that could have been for them, be it big or small. If they accomplished something great, or if they accomplished something minor. This isn't about anyone else but them.

My friend, she had never really spoken about to me or my brother about any form of religious aspects with her or in her families' lives as a whole. All she had really spoken about was having gone through with her confirmation, but after that having nothing more to do with religion or the church in general. I can only guess that it is safe to assume that since her family must have been members at some point of the church, the church had felt that they should somewhat be supportive of the grieving family.

I have never been one for attending funerals. For someone who has accepted that this is something that happen, it just constantly reminds me that death is inevitable and no matter what we try to do, or how far we try to run, it will always catch up with us in the end. Be it by our own hand, the hands of others, or from life itself. I've seen and heard of many people dying over the years because of cancer, dementia, or even just old age. Be it family members, friends of the family, or even those in some of my closest friends' lives. It has always been hard for me to sit there and accept that this has happened, and that another good person who lived a good life had been taken away from their family, and that it wasn't even their choice in the matter. The last time I went to a funeral service for someone this young was when I was in middle school, and someone who I had known who I had cut out of my life for my own selfish reasons at the time had died of suffocation.

I never expected at twenty-two to be attending the funeral for my brothers twenty-four year old ex girlfriend.

Sometimes I hate to openly admit that I stopped attending church services. There had been plenty of Sunday's where if I had just gotten over myself I could have easily gotten my college work done earlier or later. But, I have always ended up putting my schoolwork before everything else in life, and in my mind this was not an exception to that rule.

As I grew up, I began to question religion just like everyone else my age had begun to. My conclusion being that if there was a higher power, then all of the bad things that have happened to me, or to the people who are closest in my life, would not have happened, and things would not be the way that they have turned out.

It saddens me to see how the church has slowly died out over the years, and that the people who are even attending the funeral service aren't even members of the church anymore, but are just there for the family at this point. I'm sitting here wondering if her mother had still possibly attended the services, and sat here alone because her family was too busy, or didn't even wish to attending it with her, and I began to feel worse than I already did.

Maybe, maybe there was more that went on behind the scenes that none of us really knew about. She did only tell us what she wanted us to know. Maybe when she was younger before everything had happened to her, she was different. Maybe she was here with her mother and her father and her family, just like we all did when we were little kids before we grew older and spiteful.

I looked over next to me at Gaara, who had his head buried in his hands, sobbing hysterically as his best friend attempted to comfort him the best that he could. I reached over and grabbed my brother's hand in a feeble attempt to also comfort him, rubbing my thumb up and down in the webbing between his thumb and pointer finger.

We had to face reality. She was gone.

But in retrospect, she had been gone and out of our lives for a long time.

Just seeing her in that coffin made it all the more real. More final.

Noticing that the pastor finally made his way to the pulpit to give the eulogy, I directed my eyes down to the ground out of sheer discomfort. Gaara had been asked by her family to deliver the eulogy, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, claiming that even though he thought he knew her, he really didn't know her at all in the end. He then in a garbled mesh of frantic distorted words asked me if I could do it for him instead. Granted, she and I had been close at one point in time, but things between us had gotten hard at the end. She thought she was all high and mighty and above everyone, and I wasn't having it. I was done with her treating me like a slave, or as she liked to call her, "her personal assistant."

I never appreciated how she treated my brother like a piece of garbage and walked all over him, and in the end I was glad that he finally realized that he was worth more than what she had put him through and that he accepted the ones she had pushed out of his life, back into his life after years of her driving the them apart for her own selfish reasons.

My brother was right in one aspect.

How do you write a eulogy for someone who you thought you knew, but in the end you barely knew at all?

How could you go up in front of a room full of people, just to avoid speaking the truth about someone? How could you go and talk about them when everyone knew that person differently? She put on an act for each of us. I knew her as one person, while my brother knew her in a completely different light.

She drove a wedge between us, telling me one thing and then attempting to manipulate the situation to where he and I couldn't talk. Obviously, that didn't work, and here we are closer than ever.

I'm certain that someone from her family didn't go and give the eulogy for the same reasons that we couldn't. We didn't truly know her for who she was. We knew the girl that she wanted us to know. They knew the girl who they thought was their daughter. The girl she portrayed herself as in front of them in order for them to leave her alone and think she was doing something with her life. She attempted to win over their approval with her successes, but felt as though she failed in the end. She told me that she never felt good enough in their eyes.

Granted, her parents knew her from the day she was born. My brother met her when they were both in middle school. I met her when I was a sophomore in high school. It was clear that we all met and knew her in the different stages of her life with whatever she had been going through. But the answer was clear for us all. We could not write a eulogy for someone who we didn't even know.

I could tell that the pastor didn't have the answer to that question as well, but from my experiences of going to the few funerals that I had attended, I knew damn well he knew how to bullshit this type of thing, because clearly he had plenty of experiences in this before.

"No one wants to have to say goodbye to their daughter, but sometimes God has other plans in store for our precious children," he began. "The weight in the air when the deceased is only twenty-four years old is especially difficult not only for the family, but for those close to her as well. This daughter was not only a beloved and treasured member of her family, but with this congregation as well. I remember when she was just a little girl, running in here with her family even on the bleakest Sunday's, her eagerness showing of what she wanted to learn from the teaching that day. I remember being her teacher when she had made her first communion, and then when she began her confirmation. This daughter was thoughtful, respectful, and dedicated her mind to whatever goals she set forth for herself, and that is something that cannot be forgotten."

Was that who she really was? I looked over at Gaara who was still racked with sobs, assuming that this was all news to him as well. From what I had known from what she had told me, she just tried to do things as a child to keep herself active and to keep herself busy. After her last excursion of "I'm going to prove everyone wrong", I couldn't remember her showing any type of dedication towards anything except getting high, and finding different ways to accomplish that. I couldn't even remember the last conversation she had with me that didn't involve her talking about getting high, and why I chose to remain sober and that "good, clean, sober fun really didn't exist."

"This daughters untimely death brings a shock to us all, but we need to remember what she had been striving for during those last months of her life. She had been working on becoming certified to help the elderly in need. To be the person they could rely on when they thought they had no one to be there for them. She was truly a selfless person."

I snorted louder at that statement than I was hoping to, earning myself a punch in the arm from Gaara. She wasn't being selfless at all. She was trying to prove a point to everyone that she wasn't the massive fuck up that everyone assumed she was. She was doing what she was doing in order to please her family and win over some approval from them. She wasn't selfless at all. She was selfish.

Maybe if she wasn't so selfish, and maybe if she didn't only think about herself and thought about the people that loved and cared about her, she would still be here with us right now. She would have realized the amount of people she would be hurting by doing such a selfish act.

The rage in me said that she took the easy way out instead of dealing with her problems like the rest of us do. It said that she should have called me, reached out to me instead of isolating herself from the world.

The sadness in me said that she was a good person, and that I needed to remember all of the good memories that I had of her.

The part of me that was feeling uncertain, was sitting there hoping that this was just all a bad dream that I would be waking up from relatively soon.

The fear in me played on the fact that if she had reached out to me in the last three weeks of her life, that it was most certain that I would have been the one who found her body that morning. I would have gone downstairs looking for her, and then checked outside to see if she had been smoking a cigarette, and then walked into her garage to find her hanging there. The fear in me knows that I wouldn't know what to do in that moment except to sit there and sob uncontrollably before attempting to call either my mother, or Esmeralda, who I had been close with at the time and who I had known would have attempted to do something in my fucked up state of mind.

The guilt in me told me that I shouldn't have said anything to her family about the shit she was pulling, and that I should have kept my mouth shut. That maybe if I did, she would still be alive right now instead of laying in that coffin. That maybe if I hadn't given up on trying to convince her to stop doing drugs, she wouldn't have continued to go into that downward spiral. That maybe if I hadn't told her brother where she was hiding the drugs, and every last detail of what she had been up to for those months, she wouldn't have gone through what she did. If I kept my mouth shut, she would still be alive.

The final straw that had us completely cutting each other off was a ridiculous fight, in which she had screamed at me over something stupid and told me what a piece of shit I was and I retorted back with some asshole comment and reminded her like an ass that she should be grateful for the amount of times I had kept my mouth shut on her behalf.

I gave up on trying to help her after that.

She stopped reaching out to me, and continued to push everyone out of her life.

I tried to call her once to make amends, to work things out, It wasn't like I'd gotten much of a response.

I find it harder to grieve for someone who you thought you knew, that had left you. Yet I could feel the tears escaping from my eyes that I couldn't find an explanation as to why.

I tried to pay attention as the pastor read a list of her achievements, but I had found myself recounting some of the other things she had done.

Dropout. Manipulator. Liar. Drug addict. Thief. Runaway.

I knew that listening to what the pastor had to say would only make me more frustrated and angry, so I tried to discreetly look around. Some people looked as though they were bored out of their minds. Others were sobbing. Some looked angry, while others looked confused. I could tell though that everyone here was in complete shock.

I decided that it was time for me to get lost in my own head.

Usually I'm able to wrap my head around things easily enough. I have always been able to understand and logically make sense of things. Why they happened. What lead up to the situation happening. All of the who's, what's, where's, when's, why's, and how's. I'm able to usually answer and have it make sense, at least to me anyway. Fuck everyone else.

Last week, a former friend of mine that I was very close with committed suicide. We hadn't spoken in some months. She had gone down a bad path in life, and from what I been told, she was still going down it. There were some other factors that led to us no longer really speaking, but life happens, and sometimes you need to go your separate ways from someone for awhile before reconnecting with them. I knew what was still somewhat going on with her and all that, and I had told myself that I wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to show her that I could make something of myself, and not be just another one of those losers that she associated herself with. I no longer wanted to be like one of those people who didn't really have a path, or a destination in mind of what they wanted to do in life. So, once she was out of the picture for the first time, I proceeded to get my life together.

Before we went our separate ways, we used to spend a lot of time together, just she and I. She'd always want to spend time with me, and just about every day she would come and pick me up, and either bring me back to her parents' house, or on some "adventure" as we liked to call them. We drove everywhere. It's one of the reasons I actually somewhat gained a sense of direction. During the winter when we would be at her house, she liked to make us hot chocolate. Sometimes she would have me sleep over, and those nights she liked to tuck me into bed with a ton of blankets because she knew that I'm a cold individual. We would play scrabble on those nights, and sometimes they would end up being drunken scrabble when I would actually agree to have a drink with her, the rare occasion that it was. We would drive to the mall some nights and just walk around never really buying anything. Or we would go down to the docks and just admire how beautiful the sunsets would be, or just watch the boats coast through the water.

We got back in touch with each other after a few months of not speaking. She had a stint in rehab, and I informed her of how well I was doing. I was finally fulfilling my dream of going to college. I was making a lot of friends. I basically told her everything positive that was going on. She proceeded to tease me and tell me that hopefully one day I'd find a sweet guy who would appreciate my innocence and sweetness yet finally show me what a good fuck was. She said she hoped that she would be able to 'entrust my care' to him while she wasn't around so he could 'keep a good eye on me'. And yes may I add, I did finally meet that guy. I had met him some time prior to this conversation, but I knew that the drugs had messed with her mind so much at that point that I didn't even bother correcting her.

I could sit here and harbor on all the bad memories that I have of her. How many times she fucked me over. All the bad shit that she's done to me. I could sit here and say that, and just continue to be extremely angry with her, and hope that she burns in hell like the angry asshole in me wants to say. I could sit here and continue having all of this hatred and anger, and continue to blame myself for her death. Blame myself for telling her family all the shit that she was doing when they confronted me on it. I told them about when she ran away to Florida. I told them how she was snorting heroin. And then they got her help, because she was just getting worse as the days went on. Yes, I kept my mouth shut when it came to a lot of things that she did, and I blame myself for that. But I was the only person she really confided in about much of anything, and I didn't want to break her trust. I could sit here and keep blaming myself for all of this. For telling her family, which resulted her in getting help, but then slipping back into her old ways. I don't know. But what I do know is that I can't forever be angry. I can't keep dwelling on all the fucked up shit she did to me.

I just need to keep on living.

Snapping back to reality, I took notice of her father, and that his sorrow looked genuine. From what she had told me about her relationship with him, her mother hadn't really allowed him to help out with her or any of her siblings when they needed him. Her mother had decided to take charge of all of that, and he had just been a body of sorts. His eyes looked hollow, haunted. I think seeing his youngest child dead might have been the wakeup call that he needed in order to finally put his foot down and stand up to her mother, even though it was many years too late.

I couldn't look behind me without it being completely obvious that not only I wasn't paying attention but I didn't want to come face to face with who, or who didn't, come that we had both known.

"Despite the many things accomplished during her life on earth, there is always a tragedy of a life cut short: the things she missed out on. The things she will never know," I heard the pastor say.

I bit my lip in order not to burst out into laughter. What the fuck would that be, marriage and motherhood? She had spent years pushing her family away, pushing her friends away. She never wanted to get married. She made that very clear to everyone. And she made it clear that she never, ever, wanted to reproduce because she didn't want to give her child any of the mental illness that seemed to run throughout her entire family. No, her life goal was to run as far away from her past as she possibly could.

My shoulders still heaved in silent laughter and I noticed that the pastor had given a quick pause to see what was going on. After disregarding my inappropriate behavior, he seemed to regain his composure to finish the eulogy with a reminder that she would have a blessed eternal life in the arms of our Lord and Jesus Christ.

Finally, the pastor gave the benediction after what felt like forever, and told the congregation to "go in peace and be one with God." The organist banged out the chorus to a hymn I didn't seem to recognize off of the top of my head, and Gaara slipped past me in order to get out of there as quickly as he possibly could.

I am genuinely surprised that he made in through the entire service.

Standing up, I realized that all eyes were on me. What were they expecting me to do? Were they expecting me to be the grieving friend to someone who they didn't know treated me like absolute shit? Were they expecting to see me break down in my brothers' arms? They were all giving me looks of pity because I didn't have the supposed "required date" to my friend's funeral. Ino and Hinata both had asked me if I had wanted them to accompany me since my boyfriend had been unable to, but I told the both of them that it was something that I felt that I needed to do alone with Gaara. Plus I didn't want to make the two of them uncomfortable at a funeral for a girl they barely knew.

Walking over to the coffin to say my final goodbyes, I feel as though she looked unrecognizable. She looked entirely different from the last time I had seen her. But I didn't know if that was only because this is how she had looked now, or if she looked like this because she was dead.

I turned on my heel and tried to get as far away from her and her family as fast as I could, unable to handle being here any longer. I began to quickly walk towards the back of the church to the doors to get the fresh air that I needed. A hand reached out and grabbed my arm as I reached the back pew, pulling me towards the unknown person. I spun around to see who had the audacity to try to talk to me, but it was those onyx eyes that gave him away.

"Sasuke," I gasped.

"You look like you need to get out of here."

My eyes widened as I couldn't find the words to say to him. He reached out to grab my hand to lead me away from the people who had been trying to make their way over to me to find out what had truly happened to her. We made our way down the large descent of stairs over to his shitty Civic, which I was surprised I didn't see within the mass of black and grey cars since its bright neon blue color stuck out like a sore thumb. I noticed that my Sonata was parked only a couple of cars over from his, which just goes to show where my head is if I didn't even notice that when I pulled in. I had made the excuse to Gaara and whatever his friends name was that I had wanted to drive myself, that way they could be together and I could have the time to myself to process my own thoughts without the commotion of the two of them around me.

But now, curiosity was getting the best of me about what he was doing here after he had told me that not only was he unable to attend, but he didn't feel right attending.

"Where to?" he asked, climbing into the driver's seat and putting the AC on.

One of those days I'm thankful for the fact that he has cloth seats.

I shrugged. "Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Please. Let's just go. I need to get out of here."

He slipped his hand into mine. "Whatever you say. Let's go for a drink, alright?"

Well, at least it was after twelve, so this won't be socially looked down upon.

Normally he'd pop open a bottle earlier if he had the chance if I was as depressed as I am currently. Any excuse for him to drown his own sorrows in the bottle. I shook my head at the thought of it. Now's not the time to think about him and his issues. For once I just didn't want to feel anything, at least for a moment.

I could tell that Sasuke was driving us to one of those chain restaurants that he knew I loved to go to even though it was out of the way. I stared out the window, not really wanting to say anything to him or even say anything at all. He ran his thumb up and down between my thumb and my pointer finger, much like I had done with Gaara. I made a mental note to myself that clearly this is where I had picked up the weird habit from. The only noise came from the radio, which he had put on one of the rare stations he and I could actually agree upon where we didn't want to kill each other or where one of us didn't slam the radio off.

I suppose that would be the downfall of having completely two totally different tastes in music.

Arriving at the restaurant, I heard him let out a sigh as he reached into his backseat to grab a hoodie. Giving me a look, he reached down in front of me to grab my messenger bag as I gave him a look of confusion.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked as he climbed out of the car.

I opened the passenger door in silence as I proceeded to climb out of the car. Looking up I saw him standing there with his hand outstretched as I place my own in his. I gave him a half smile as we made our way inside.

The hostess led us to a table in the back, away from everyone. I could only assume she could smell the scent of death on despair on me and wanted to get the disheveled looking person that I am away from the rest of society. The lights were surprisingly low despite the fact that it was only lunch hour, and our table had a single candle flickering on it. He handed me my messenger bag and his hoodie as I sat down. I placed the bag on the booth next to me and wrapped myself up in his hoodie; the warmth and the scent of him bringing a slight smile to my face that I didn't even think was possible.

The reality of the situation was slowly starting to hit me.

She was gone. Forever.

And here I was, sitting at a table with my boyfriend who hadn't really said more than a few words to me since he randomly showed up and whisked me away, once again avoiding my feelings.

Running away I knew was not an option anymore. I also know that Sasuke wouldn't allow me to just avoid speaking to him and hide underneath my mounds of blankets for a few days while I tried to process things in my own way. No one would. I could almost guarantee that someone would barge straight into my room, rip everything off of me, and force me to talk to them.

Talking. The last thing that I really wanted to do with anyone right now.

Yet here I am, waiting for Sasuke to explain his sudden appearance. But he still remained silent as I directed my eyes back down to my menu so he wouldn't feel me staring at him like the socially awkward person that I am.

"Since your stomach is probably being weird, I would say for you to get the chicken to play it safe."

I looked up at Sasuke, who was avoiding my gaze. "Excuse you? Are you fucking serious? You should up at my friends funeral completely out of left field and the first thing you have to say to me all day is that I should order the fucking chicken? Whatever happened to going to the damn bar."

"Sakura," he began. "You're being a little irrational right now."

"I'm being irrational? Irrational! Then what the fuck is this? Why the fuck have we been sitting here in complete silence? Why haven't you said two goddamn words to me since we left the chapel? I thought you said you couldn't even fucking go."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that our waiter had been trying to approach us, but was stopped in his tracks due to my outburst.

"We're ready to order," I said probably a little too loudly. He tiptoed over and gave me a look as though I was a ticking time bomb, even though he was correct with his assumption. "I'll have the chicken alfredo. Extra sauce, extra cheese."

"I'll take the steak," he said finally. "Medium. Loaded baked potato and broccoli."

"Any drinks for the table?"

I hadn't even thought to take a look at the drink menu.

"Being us a bottle of the best red white you have, please." Sasuke said calmly.

The waiter strolled off as I shot Sasuke a look. "Really? I'm surprised you're actually being so tame right now with your alcohol choice."

He laughed. "You can get shitfaced if you want. Drown out your feelings. I drove us here, and someone needs to be able to drive us back."

"And my car?"

"Ino has your extra set of keys. It's already back at your place."

"I see you've thought this out."

The waiter walked back over to our secluded table to awkwardly place a warm basket of bread on it, as well as two rather large wine glasses. He hastily uncorked the bottle and walked away without pouring either of us a glass.

Guess he realized that I wasn't in the mood for any type of random bullshit.

Sasuke took a piece of bread and busied himself with the butter. I poured myself a rather full glass and looked him dead in the face.

"So, do you want to explain what the fuck you were doing there?"

"You needed me," he answered calmly. "You needed someone to be there for you. Someone to pull you out of your own head when you started to lose yourself. You needed the support yourself. You were being the rock for your brother, but I know you needed a shoulder to cry on as well."

"Sasuke, you were a sneak about it. You went and sat all the way in the back of the chapel where I couldn't notice you even if I tried."

"It wasn't like I could have just popped up next to you and yelled, 'Surprise! Here I am!' It's not that easy, nor was it the time or place to cause an unneeded scene."

"You didn't even really know her." I said quietly.

"I knew of her through you. She was a big part of your life."

"You never interacted with her. You didn't even like her."

"She treated you like shit, Sakura. And if you don't remember, she almost killed you a couple times."

Just goes to show that this kid actually does pay more attention to me when I talk to him than I thought he did.

"I don't think that matters now," I chose my words carefully. "Because I'm still here, and she isn't. I survived."

"Yeah, well…" He nervously tapped his fingers on his thigh. "I don't think this is about survival, Sakura."

"Then what is it about?"

Sasuke frowned. "What are you feeling right now? What's going through your head? You seem angry. Why are you angry."

I snorted. "Oh hell no. We are not playing lets psychoanalyze Sakura and see what level of fucked up her brain is at right now. We are not doing this. We are not talking about how I'm feeling right now. Right now I just want to eat my fucking food whenever it gets to the damn table, and then I want to go home and crawl into my bed and not have to deal with the world for a little while. Is that so much to ask? Is it so much to ask that I honestly don't want to talk about this?"

"I'm not trying to turn this into a psychology lesson," he pleaded. "I just..you forget that I know exactly what it's like to feel guilty after someone you have cared about dies."

Ah yes, how could I forget. I could never forget that.

I picked up my glass and threw him a look. "I don't think that we should continue to sit here and talk about all of the death we've experienced within our lives. Didn't you take me out to get a drink?"

"Isn't that what we're doing?" he asked as he poured himself a glass.

I raised my glass. "Exactly. A toast to misery. One of life's more stupid of things that it decided to create and inflict on everyone."

Reviews are welcome!

Bunny.