Today at work, we talked about Terraria, and I remembered you. I remembered the hours we spent building a home, how we’d scream and yell and laugh as monsters spawned in our home because we forgot to cover one spot of dirt. The times when we were out too late and night came, and we had to bury ourselves or build a temporary hovel just to survive. I think of the rooms we set up, how we created our own spaces together, how we traveled to hell and ensured we had a straight-drop down to the depths of lava and fire. There were always a few hiccups along the way, always a few accidental drops to our death, but we always found our way back together. Sometimes I wonder if the world we live in isn’t much like that – a twisting series of caverns that’ll lead us to our ultimate demise. 

    Is that what happened to us? Did we fall into the flames and get consumed by our demons? Did we let darkness snuff out our torches, did we let each other fall and never find our way back home? 

    Playing it now is lonely. I enter our home and find memories left waiting, as if expecting us both to return. I wonder how I tell myself that you won’t. I wonder when I’ll stop wondering about you.