"... to a rubber room near you." That's what she'd always said to me when we were giggling in the dark hours of the night. I would always reply back, "when in Rome," and then I would kiss her nose and her mouth because she'd have stopped breathing. That's when our situation would change. She'd say that the death rate was down, and I would have to throw water on her as if she were a stricken reactor. It wasn't always like this. My memories of her were often like remembering days in ancient cities, when we were two idiots gone mad on lethal drugs and street fashion. Other days it was Russian roulette over lunch with a serial killer, and still others, it was cherry blossom festival magic. The sky wasn't always falling, and love wasn't always a blood money deal, but that was before ... before we could get what we wanted ... before we ever felt the need to use a word like "situation."
Cheryl Anne Gardner
Never Let Me Go