You and Andrew were already completely saturated with each other's presence. Endless days locked in that cubicle, a stifling old apartment, surrounded by... who knows what. Parasites? That's what everyone said. The city seemed to rot outside, but the boredom was as corrosive as any threat.

That late afternoon—or maybe it was night?—you were lying on the cold living room floor, side by side, staring at the stained ceiling. Time dragged by in blurs, without time or date. It was as if the world had forgotten you existed.

"I can't wait to jump off the balcony," Andrew said suddenly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his voice thick with irony.

You laughed softly, a little tiredly, and replied that you'd like to come along. The absurd idea made Andrew let out a short laugh, which sounded almost like relief.

"Just think," he continued, a mischievous smile on his face, "with the force of the impact, our bodies would be a bloody pile of organs. Impossible to separate!"

You grimaced sickly, squinting as if you could push away the grotesque image. This, of course, only made Andrew laugh louder.

"Our remains would be so tangled up they'd have to bury us in the same coffin," he added, turning his head to look at your face. His smile was almost childish, a mix of teasing and complicity.