We first kissed on our minus-one-hundredth wedding anniversary.
You were a duckling, I was a fish. We went in for the same crumb at the same time, as our future selves sat in our garden, throwing bread into the lake and discussing reincarnation and rifts in the space-time continuum.
Written in the Stars
My tinder profile said, “Know what pulchritude means (no looking it up)? Get in touch.”
No response for 27 billion years.
Then a black hole ate Earth. Spat out our dating profiles as new stars.
That’s how we met. You gazed at mine in the night sky and said, “Beauty.”
The Perils of Dating
On my dating app, I put my location as Neptune.
You asked if you could visit me via Myanus. I said at least buy me dinner first.
We agreed to meet on Saturn. You joked about putting a ring on it.
Then we both died en route, of old age.
Saturn is very far.
Dating is hard.
Neil Clark is a writer from Edinburgh, The Universe and everywhere between and beyond. His work is published in Okay Donkey, The Molotov Cocktail, Five:2:One and other cool places. Find him at neilclarkwrites.wordpress.com or on Twitter, where he posts a new micro fiction most days @NeilRClark