Word count: 513

"Truth or dare?" the older male slowly poured a fresh bottle of cola into his friends cup. The night was coming to a close, and they watched as the soft, fiery red and magenta hues filled the far corners of the sky. The girl adjusted the blanket on her shoulders and reached for the cup.

"Truth."

The male reached for his own and took a long sip.

"What's your greatest fear?"

"I'm not sure, really." she laughed. The roaring engines of cars sounded off into the distance; someone was taking the early shift. Probably woke up before his wife so he wouldn’t have to worry about her dragging herself to make him breakfast. He’d grab some on the way.

He scoffed, "Oh, come on. Not finding a date to the prom? Not getting the car you want for your 20th birthday?" Another car passed. This one was going towards the houses. Most likely someone who was just arriving home for a midnight shift. She might have missed dinner, quality time with her kids or husband. Probably had a broken family due to lack of communication.

"No, nothing like that. I think my greatest fear is dying alone. I'm afraid that I won't make a name for myself that people will remember me by. I'm afraid that...my death will just be another entry in an obituary page that gets a brief glance, a small head shake, and a toss into a trash can. That one day, somebody will say my name, and another will reply by asking ‘You mean that dead girl?’ without giving it any second thought.” she laughed again, only this one lacked the warm humor that it usually held. There was no smile to accompany the laugh, just a vacant stare into the slowly rising sun.

It was almost as if she was laughing at herself for being so stupid. She was fearing a future that was sure to come. There was no use in sobbing to the rest of the world. She lowered her head and stared into the droplet remains of the cola. She felt a gentle wipe on her cheek and jumped, startled.

“You’re crying.”

She looked at the boy, confused, “No, I’m no--” she lifted her hand to her face and, sure enough, she felt the wet texture of none other than tears. She removed her hand and stared at the glistening spots on her fingers.

“Oh.”

He moved over closer to her, gently wrapping his blanket around her own and resting his head on her sweater, “I won’t let that happen to you. The thing about you dying without anyone to carry on your memory? You have me. It’s not going to happen.”

In return, she softly dug her chin into his hair, taking in the sweet aroma of the strawberry shampoo he insisted on using even though everyone calls it girly. She wanted to savour this moment before the sun rose and they have to leave. She wanted to pause time so they could live this moment forever. She wanted so desperately to believe him.