we have schedules to keep

“We have schedules to keep,” she says.

Fine.  Keep your schedules.  Christmas first, then my birthday, then yours: keep them all.  I don’t want them anymore.

Leave me by the side of the road.  Keep walking, and take your schedules with you.  There’s something we left behind, and I can’t go on without it.   You can’t make me.  

You can’t make me anything anymore.  It’s time for un-making.  You have schedules, but I have a date with God.

My feet go dark.  My belly makes a fist.  A green flame flickers in my chest.  My mouth unzips to let out a soft sad furious “no.”  It zips shut again.  The rest of this story is not for you.