a secret santa exchange before an unnatural disaster that affects two people

I know I gave you a portion of the left side of my brain

And you gave me a bag of peanut butter cups and words of encouragement,

But

You should sever my hand.

And I should sever yours.

Seriously. Hear me out:

The end is coming. The separation is coming. We don’t have a lot of money. Because we’re young and poor, which means I can’t come with you. And I probably wouldn’t be able to due rules and regulations.

I know you leave tomorrow. And that you’ll be FAR away. HAPPIER. Because you’ll be there instead of here, which means you have a better chance at being the first person to document a squatch. Becoming famous. And winning NOBLE PRIZE + a lifetime supply of tv show on nature channels (excluding PBS.)

Or just finding a job out there and never coming back.

But you should chop off my hand and let me do the same to you.

We can sew each other’s hand onto the other person’s body.

That way we’ll have something to remember each other by before you’re gone.

And I know most people want oral sex.

Or roses, red wine, and a fancy restaurant.

 Or even a kiss goodbye.

But

I want your hand sewn onto my body because then we can interlock our fingers together even though your 2782.57 miles away. I could massage the base of your index finger with the tip of my thumb. The friction of between finger tips. The warmth of another person’s body heat.  Will make me feel less alone.

But it will never be the same. Because it isn’t spontaneous.