The Shameless Pocket Dimension: My Ex's Rib Is Glowing

On day 1,095 of the apocalypse, the snowy plains had become a sea. A church emerged from beneath the ice, and my ex folded the wedding invitation into a paper boat, sending it my way with a bride’s seat reserved for me and death waiting at the end. I went to the rendezvous with a lantern, not to say “I do,” but to crash the wedding. But the man who came walking through the snow mist brought the sound of bells with him. An infinity sign was carved into his collarbone, and he used my ex’s ribs as a torch to light up every corner of my darkness. “Chi Man,” he chuckled, “I’ll choose the direction. You’ll find your way home.” At the edge of the snowy sea, the paper boat burned into fireworks. The instant a paper ring slipped onto my ring finger, infinity stamped itself onto my heartbeat. This time, the apocalypse wouldn’t come to claim my life. It would claim only one thing: forever.