The REAL WORLD

Its pretty much the same as the last place we stopped; there isn't anyone on the street, there's only empty cans and drifting newspapers.
"For the last time, I am sorry, but home was unsettled and extreme."
Together we dreamt a single dream; that there was no one left in the world but us. We had to wake up at some point.

Every eye is upon us. It's too much for my broken limbs to handle. I sit at the table, my steaming cup sits untouched. Ten months here and we're still alive.
It's getting harder to dream. It's nearly impossible now.
"It's the end." she pronounced.
"The end of what?"
"This." She said.

I sit in my bed and stare at the blank page. My heart is full and sagging, my brain is empty and dull.
My throat is shut.
'Dear Diary,' the words find their way out of my pen, 'words were thrown, pain was aroused and I was less than thrilled.'
Heart. Head. Breath. All shut. Closed. Empty.

The game had just begun...

"It's the end." she pronounced.

...but it ended just as quickly.