Part III
This time when you leave, he doesn’t say he loves you because he thinks it’ll make you mad. Truth is, you want to hear it now, but you don’t know how to ask and you can’t make him say the words, so you just kiss him and tell him you’ll be back.
“When?” he wants to know, as if time will actually pass for him between turning off the program and plugging the chip into another unit tomorrow.
“Soon,” you promise.
Because he’s not asleep, you feel it necessary to actually get out of the bed before you go, distance yourself from him. You don’t want to just vanish in his arms. For a few awkward minutes he stares at you, your naked skin golden in the light cast from his bedside lamp. Whatever it is you see in his eyes dries up your throat. You can’t speak the words to abort the program
