Dust, Pringles, Soft Drinks and Salt

As I sit, scrunched up on the couch, eyes glued to the movie playing on the screen,
I draw my blanket closer up my chin and fumble around for the Pringles can,
I take a handful.
Then another.
Another few seconds pass and I reach out for a swig of the lemonade, and then I tense.
The scene is coming up,
You know the one, the one where they fall.
And they keep falling, until they suddenly stop.
The blanket comes up further, hiding the bottom of my face.
I can feel the tears welling up.
and I bring up the scratchy purple fabric even further and not-so-quietly sob into it.
This is stupid,
I know that he’s not dead, I’ve seen this movie dozens of times.
And yet I always fall apart in that scene.
And the last scene.
That one always gets me too.
The movie finishes and I manage to lift myself off the couch, and I wipe away the tears clinging to my face.
I stumble off to bed, not bothering to brush my teeth,
as I fall into bed I carefully lay down my blanket on top of my sheets.
Then I fall asleep, still wrapped in my scratchy purple blanket.