I often had nightmares of being drowned in pages and pages of medical disclaimers–the ones printed in magazines beside glossy advertisements showcasing elderly couples jogging in a park and smiling after having beaten incontinence/heartburn/impotence/anxiety/youth.
It’s a rotary phone, and most visitors actually dial a number. Many speak out loud to their dead. They share mundane things, little updates that sew a life together.
This is your society. Now you don’t have boyfriends or girlfriends, and you don’t get married. You cohabitate. You don’t say, “I love you,” as if to reassure your partner that nothing has changed since the last time you said it. You don’t have to say anything.
Winner of CLMP's 2018 Firecracker Award: Best Debut!