"Fuck fuck fuck! I've never done this before," she said. He drove to the darkest corner he could find. She looked behind a few times before she could stare at him, squeezing his hand. It was the end. Uneventful, slow and numbing. He tried to be angry, excited or even reactive. In th end he shuddred into her shoulder as she did into his. "It will be ok," she said. He could only respond with his eyes. "This is like gutting my eyes while I'm awake" he wanted to scream at her. She read him well but couldn't acknowledge it. She was numbing out already. He squeezed her hand anyway. He screamed vicariously through it. Surreal? No, it was real and perhaps that's why it was real.
He calls her and they are reminded how much this is real.
"I have to go." He drives back. She jumps out and calls him right. She sends him another picture. The last picture. A memento? Or for safe keeping? It doesn't matter. This hurts anyway. The end remains unchanged.
They talk about this and that and bid their farewell. It's short. It's over. He drops the phone. He sighs aware of all the emptiness he must now roam.