Nerdy

Jillian always told me that my plans were stupid. We'd be waiting in line for a restaurant, or sitting in the dark in the back of a taxi cab, and I would try and bring it up, just to have something to talk about. What would we do? Where would we go? What was her weapon of choice?

She thought I was so stupid. She hated all that stuff about me, you know -- she hated the books I liked, the movies, the games. She was tall and blonde and ethereal, the kind of girl who could have stopped a sunset just by asking, and I was her rebellious phase -- her geek of a wife with the short hair and glasses and nervous personality.

Sometimes I wonder if she liked anything about me.

I shouldn't be writing about this, of course. I should be pursuing all those fanciful plans I made, picking up my survival backpack and rushing to raid a grocery store. But I think I'm realizing that I have no idea what to do. I never thought my plans would have to be anything more than fiction. And... I never thought I'd be facing the end alone.

Too bad that wasn't in the pre-nup.