As Usual

At seventeen, I was annoyed just seeing him. At eighteen, I left home for college. He came to find me, and I kissed him. He cried, saying I didn’t even like him. He was right. At nineteen, he still came to see me often, but I never told him I loved him. At twenty, he said he wanted to discuss something important with me. I got drunk, pretending to be clueless while knowing full well, and told him to talk about it later. At twenty-one, he disappeared. At twenty-two, I put on a suit and went to work. There was no more news of him. Every year after that, I kept imagining what it would be like to reunite with him. On the day before the end of the world, I decided to go find him. I decid...