“A
well considered act of stupidity is the most optimistic thing a person can do,”
he says, inhaling deeply on his unfiltered cigarette
I
shake my head.
Blowing
a smoke ring, his eyes dart from mine to the ring floating between us.
“Like this,” he says waving the cigarette.
“Countless people around the world smoke, all well informed of the risks involved, they are written right there on the pack. But they keep doing it. Why? Optimism. With each puff we think Cancer, well it won’t happen to me.”
“That isn’t optimistically stupid,” I say, “that’s simply stupid."
“But it is though. Like those suckers that by lotto tickets every week knowing they will lose. Or you, wanting a baby. The world is a mess and is full of sadness, evil happens as a matter of course, disease. That child will die one day. But yet you stupidly hope otherwise.”
“Like this,” he says waving the cigarette.
“Countless people around the world smoke, all well informed of the risks involved, they are written right there on the pack. But they keep doing it. Why? Optimism. With each puff we think Cancer, well it won’t happen to me.”
“That isn’t optimistically stupid,” I say, “that’s simply stupid."
“But it is though. Like those suckers that by lotto tickets every week knowing they will lose. Or you, wanting a baby. The world is a mess and is full of sadness, evil happens as a matter of course, disease. That child will die one day. But yet you stupidly hope otherwise.”
“Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce,” I sigh.
“That means there’s hope for half of us,” he laughs, blowing another smoke ring at me.
I hold out my left hand and let it hit my ring finger. He gets up off one knee.
I relent. “Fine, I’ll marry you.”
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