When I finally regained consciousness, the first thing I saw was… a person.
A tall one.
He was dressed in loose, oversized clothes that swallowed his frame, like he didn't want to be perceived by society ever again. Well then again who does ? .Thick glasses hid half his face, the lenses catching just enough light to make his eyes impossible to read.
Great.
A stranger. Love that for me.
Naturally, the first thing I did was sit up—
—and immediately slammed my face straight into his.
A solid thunk.
For a moment, everything froze.
Then came the curses.
A whole storm of them. Creative. Passionate. Honestly? A little inspiring.
I blinked at him, still dazed.
"Wow," I muttered. "That was… impressive."
He clutched his face like I'd personally betrayed his ancestors.
Like the perfectly sane person I am, I asked,
"Who am I?"
He slowly lifted his head, still slightly bent forward, like his soul hadn't fully returned to his body yet. He blinked at me.
Once.
Twice.
Then, completely serious, he said,
"My husband."
I paused.
Considered it.
"Oh," I thought . "I like men."
A beat.
"Wait… you're my husband?"
He stared at me.
Then—
"Pfft. No."
…
"I don't know who you are," he continued, adjusting his glasses, "but I'm pretty sure of one thing."
Something in his tone shifted. Just slightly.
"You're a criminal."
And just like that—
a new train of confusion took place .
…Fuck.