Pranks are cancer

They loved pulling pranks, cruel ones, the kind that blurred the lines between laughter and pain. So when the doctor called, he answered and heard the prognosis: cured. Smiling, he told her the opposite.

Screaming, she grabbed the gun from the drawer and aimed it at his chest. If she was dying, he was coming too.

Panicked, he confessed it was a joke.

She laughed, breathless, lowering the gun. She was joking, too.

Then the phone rang again.

The doctor apologized profusely. The test results were mixed up.

His smiled stayed.

He couldn't tell her.

She was still watching him.