This is your life, and it's ending one moment at a time.
I know this because Masen knows this.
Masen steals a car. Not a nice car either. A beat up Cadillac the color of curdled milk, seats gone squashy as the upholstery leaks out of the cracked leather. He hurtles down the highway like a bullet from a gun and I’m trying not to think about what the fuck we’re gonna do. We have precisely thirty two minutes before the police catch on that something shady went down. I still don’t know why they had him locked away, but I’m pretty sure I blew up my house.
I don’t even remember why I did it.
“You did it to prove something,” Masen says and guns the engine.
“Yourself. Do you ever think about dying?” He flicks his cigarette out the window, a fire wash of sparks exploding behind us.
“A lot,” I say but he shakes his head.
We are the bright little center of the universe.
Hurtling toward some sort of glory.
Everything else is just smoldering shit.