Wisdom is like a crown of thorns; he wears it as a medal, yet bears it as an instrument of torture. Thus he is sometimes called a sinner, and sometimes regarded as a god.
Last night, I had a hazy, venomous dream. Thanos and his army came back to Earth—maybe to wipe out the other half he'd forgotten, or maybe just for some unwelcome sightseeing. Either way, it inevitably turned into another exhausting, soul-crushing battle.I had to suit up, blast through alien creatures and take hits for others, get hauled by a woman on a winged horse and ultimately lose Tony all over again in that war.
When I woke up, the dream felt hollow yet terrifyingly real. Like that one time, over a decade ago, when Tony called me at some ungodly hour saying we had to leave for Alabama *right then* to try fried green tomatoes. That kind of *"you think you're getting up to pee, but then you realize you're already peeing"* horror. So I threw up twice and was still out of it by the time the wedding started.
It was a fine day. The lawn was dotted with empty chairs—Tony had reserved some seats, just like I had, for people who never showed. Happy officiated, and even though we'd told him a dozen times not to treat it like the goddamn Oscars, he still stumbled over his words. Rumor was he'd crash-dieted for two weeks, and the brain fog was a side effect. His voice sounded distant, and then Tony started correcting him, and the two of them bickered while the world spun around me. Summer was ending. The day was ending. The late sunlight spilled over everything like oilcloth, bleaching the empty chairs into rows of white tombstones.
S.I.'s PR team had drafted several *grand* proposals for our "wedding of the century," but in the end, we ignored all of them. No cameras, no media, no flowers—well, except for that handful of wildflowers wrapped in scrap paper. We just held a small ceremony in the backyard. Morgan has a heart now, even if she's still not much bigger than a fist. After so many deaths, we're desperate for new life in a way we never were before. Tony lies against my stomach every day, swearing he can hear her heartbeat. I tell him to cut the crap—that's just my acid reflux.
I can't feel Morgan yet, but she was definitely at the wedding. Between our handful of friends and all those empty chairs, it was complete. Tony hadn't even finished his vows before I kissed him, , catching him off guard. I couldn't help crying—even in dreams, his 'whoa, what?' face is painfully vivid. I told him I just didn't want to waste it. Didn't want to waste time anymore.
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