"Have you?"

I can feel him roll his eyes at me. He's an eye-roller. He has been since before we met; his mother told me so. It's cute, sometimes. Other times it's very satisfying, because it means I'm getting his goat.

"I suppose there's no point in telling you you've made that same crack a million times before," he says.

This is the part where "Have I?" would be cheap and easy. I'm not cheap and easy. He's earned everything he's gotten, and he will continue to do so for as long as we're together.

"No, I suppose not," I reply. "Quite the conundrum. You do know the definition of insanity, though?"

"As much as you know that no quantized bit of spacetime is identical to any other."

"Oh? Do I?" I do. I'm majoring in chemistry, but every nerdy girl knows some little tidbits of pop science. They're a good way to bridge the gap between us and the normies.

My Ralphie's not a normie, though. He's a different kind of nerd. He loves that I can play with him. Our little games are fun - so fun, in fact, that I genuinely can't remember what I'm not supposed to be forgetting, over and over. Perhaps it's that key to his dorm room that I'm not supposed to have. That could get either or both of us in trouble. I suppose it's okay that he's taking it so seriously. I should look for it today.

He huffs, marking strike two. I smile to try to placate him. "It seems to me that my terrible memory rather cuts against the relevance of that statement. At best, I'm stuck in a moment. At worst, I'm forgetting more and more. While the latter means I'm still changing, it suggests a form of ultra-insanity that you're doing the same thing over and over again when you reasonably ought to expect a worse result every time."

There's a silence. I wasn't expecting that.

"And you know, I'm just not sure I can marry a man who's ultra-insane. I only signed up for the regular octane."

I rub the ring. Hrm. Odd. It feels very thick... and the tiny stone is off center. Ah well. It's not like I care much about jewelry anyway. Ralphie spent too much. It's nice that "too much," for me, was not very much. I want us to spend money on other things - more important things. We'll have a house. We'll have children. The wedding, well, that's another thing I don't really care much about.

I hear Ralphie get out of his chair. I get a little excited. He's coming over to either scold me or kiss me. It's never both. The game continues, or it ends. We have fun. I just worry about his parents. Surely, they'll be coming home soon. They're very nice people, but not the type who are okay with their son and his fiance cavorting around on their furniture.

I feel his hand on my shoulder. The touch is soft - almost shaking, actually. He must want to end the game. I'm going to get a kiss.

An old man slowly kneels in front of me. Ralphie's father? Uncle?

"I'm sorry," I say. "What's going on? I didn't realize anyone else was home. Where's Ralphie? Where's my Ralphie?"

"I'm right here," the old man says. "And I'm sorry, Annie. I shouldn't keep saying it. It's selfish. But it's time for your medicine, and then dinner, and then a bath. We have to get started. It takes a long time to end our days, these days."

"I... I don't..." I feel the ring again. It's two rings. I don't want to look down, but I do anyway. Those aren't my hands. They're wrinkly. They're old. But also, there's a wedding band below my engagement ring. Oh, my. I am so happy, so sad, and so scared, all at once.

"Ralphie," I ask, "what have I forgotten?"

"Not that I love you," he says, "or that you love me."

The voice is still Ralphie's. It becomes clear the moment I look away. It's not just about the sounds, you see. It's about the emotions. Ralphie's father thinks I'm delightful, but he doesn't love me like that. Ralphie's uncle... well, I'm not quite sure whether he has one or not.

I'm vaguely aware of the fact that he's lying to me - not about who he is, but about how precious things will endure. I smile, I think. I can't help it. I'm always having silly little thoughts - thoughts like, Well, I suppose almost everything must be, then. A lie, that is.

"No... never that," I reply.

It feels good to say it. It feels like a little game. I don't know if I want him to kiss me, though. I don't think I want this game to end.