Bedtime Box

Ryan's breaking down.

He stands and stares, as if watching the day play over in front of him.  He looks like he wants to go cry.  I take pitty and hug him.

"This crap can't be real," he whispers.

I sigh, "Let's just relax for tonight, okay?"

"Yeah.  Hold on.  Let me do something..."  He pulls away from me.

I watch quietly as he finds heavy boxes full of who-knows-what and baracades the door.  I try to tell him to stop, but he's not going to listen.  He stacks them higher and higher until he thinks it will work.

"There.  We have guns, we have shelter.  Just no food.  I'll go out tomorrow.  Maybe I can leave you here, just so you'll be safe..."  His eyes go blank.  He's in shock and he doesn't really hear himself speak.

"No, Ryan.  It's time to rest.  Come on, we can probably find something to sleep in."

I walk with him up and down the aisles and knock over the boxes blocking our way.  In the end, all I find is a bathroom.  Ryan and I wash the blood off of ourselves then decide to turn in.

"We'll be safe here," I say.  I find some newspaper to make pillows with, but nothing for blankets.

"Do you want your own box?"  I ask.  Say yes, say no, say yes, say no...

"No.  I..." he laughs at himself, snapping out of the shock, "I 'd rather not be alone.  I need to know someone else is here."

I feel myself blush, "Okay."

"Do you not want me to?"

"No, I mean... yes... or... maybe...?"

Ryan laughs, and it's light-hearted, "Come on, let's go to bed."

We go inside the box.  It's cozy inside.  I'm happy I'm with him...

I couldn't have been stuck with anybody better.

The End

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