A Marshmallow's Guide to Loving a Complete Idiot (Inanimate Insanity)(Marshple)

43. Until Death Do Us Part

Marsh deliberated for a long time. Apple stared expectantly at her. A few moments later, she said, "Oh. Uhh... Are we going to sell stuff?"

She snapped her fingers. "Right! We'll sell stuff!"

"Oh. What about when we stop having stuff to sell?"

"...Antiques."

"What's an antique?"

"It's a really old thing. There are collectors who like them."

"Oh. You mean from around the mansion? Are we allowed to do that? They... aren't really ours."

Marsh went silent. It was true. They didn't technically own anything that they hadn't bought, so it wasn't right to sell it.

'Well, we didn't buy the mansion, but that's ours,' Marsh tried to rationalize. But soon, a thought came to her.

'Whose name is on the title deed for Purgatory Mansion, anyway?'

It was startling. Was it MePhone's? Steve Cobs'?

'Couldn't they evict us anytime if we didn't play their game when they wanted us to?'

"Marsh?"

Purgatory Mansion. It was a bubble away from reality, quite like a dream. Politics, religion... they were all outside of it, and unimportant.

The bubble's form wavered. Marsh grinned strangely.

'This dream... Is it really ours?'

"Marsh?" Apple repeated.

"You're right." A deep breath. "I guess someone could kick us out whenever he wanted. Haha..."

"Oh. Well, we could ask nicely to stay. It's not the end of the world."

"Excuse me for a moment." Marsh got out of her seat. Apple stared after her, confused. Marsh hurried away.

XXX

Of all the places Marsh could have gone, the corkboard of drawings in her bedroom didn't seem like a likely one. The garden, the stairs in front of the house, or even the roof seemed like better places to think.

But still, she found herself staring at that board, at that place.

If the garden represented the heart of their dream, to celebrate life, this wall was the brain. Each drawing represented a fact of life at the mansion.

Eating cookies. Christmas gifts. Walmart trips. A cozy love.

And, above all of that, a universal truce.

'It's all a dream... just a dream.'

Her hands tightened into fists.

'We... we built all this... On a false idea. We aren't free of that game. We weren't for a second.'

Marsh grabbed a scroll sitting up against the corkboard, and unfurled it. On it was a familiar drawing -- the most familiar drawing. It filled Marsh with dread to see those restive scribbles on the page.

'...We haven't escaped... That.'

The door opened. Marsh tensed.

She didn't have to turn around to tell that Apple was worried. That was just the air that surrounded them. There was no other possible feeling.

Apple came closer. "What're you looking at?"

Marsh couldn't tear her gaze from those scribbled black lines. Soon, the sound of Apple's measured steps filled their room.