Even If It Kills You
By A.P. Ritchey
I recognized him in the coffee shop and hesitated. “Wait—aren’t you…?”
“Yeah, man. Cupid.” He looked different– worn down, wings gone, middle-aged and half-bald. He hawked up a loogie and spat on the floor.
“Tough sledding,” I offered.
He blew a breath, more a cough than a laugh.
“Love, man. You humans make it so hard on yourselves.” He lit a cigar. “These arrows ain’t cutting it. So today, I’m testing a major upgrade.”
Outside, on the horizon, a pink mushroom cloud climbed the sky.
Cupid smirked, exhaled a curl of smoke.
“Can you feel the love now, bitches?”
A.P. Ritchey's speculative fiction has appeared in or is forthcoming from Zodiac Review, SciFi Shorts, Typishly, and The Esthetic Apostle, among others. He is also a professional graphic designer, published board game inventor, multi-instrumentalist, and an accomplished printmaker. His work can be viewed here. He writes from Fayetteville, Arkansas.
New definition of love bombing: unlocked.
But man, what did this cupid experience? Obviously humans. But still.
Poor Cupid! How we've damage him. ❤️💔