Happy Birthday Eternity

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My name is Ellis Jackson. I’m 2038 years old. I didn’t meet the love of my life until I turned 578. Her name is Evaline. She has pale skin and collagen injected lips. Like everyone else that lives forever, most of her body is fake.

I love Evaline even though I barely remember why. I just know that I do. I’m relying on the fact that I’ve said it so many times that there must have once been a reason for my love.

But isn’t that how we always go through life? Relying on our words to justify our actions? Whatever happened to justifying our words with our actions?

‘I’m going to die.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means I’m going to die.’

‘You mean you’re going to kill yourself?’

‘No, I’m dying.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’m going to die.’

‘When?’

‘Within the next fifty years…’

A pause. A breath. A nervous twisting of nervous fingers. This is how the moment goes. This is how my wife tells me that she’s going to die. I’m incapable of processing this information.

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