Tomorrow Is Never Promised

Jordan Beckerman roamed the earth like a headless chicken roams its coop, stumbling across women of all shapes and sizes, desperately hoping he'd find one who didn't place him into the dreaded friend-zone, or dead under mysterious circumstances. Despite being in his late twenties, it was understood that finding a life partner was of the essence because he wasn't getting any younger, and more importantly the unpredictability of life meant that the next five minutes of them were not guaranteed.

Because of this, along with the fear he'd spend the rest of his life single, depressed, and lonely, he spent much of his time studying comedy to a point where he dressed as Jesus Christ for a Tinder photo, and stated under his About Me that he was over two thousand years old and had only been nailed once. To his surprise that bit of quirky humor worked because lying next to him under the sheets of his bed was his girlfriend, April Emilia Garcia.

"What do you call someone who murders a box of cereal?" Jordan sat up and took hold of April's hand, his eyes circling her face as she cocked her head to the side.

Just watching her think was an event. You could tell she was deep in thought by the way she chewed harder on the peppermint gum he offered her earlier on, and how she'd nod and then shake her head as if she had come to some sort of agreement with herself before changing her mind.

April's eyes found his gaze and her lips moved though Jordan hadn't a clue of what she had said. Her beauty was just too surreal. Women like her only existed on Instagram. To even rate her on a scale of one to ten would be impossible due to the fact that she was a perfect eleven. Long curly black hair, caramel skin, and thick in all the right places with more curves than the number eight.

"... Jordan," April pulled her hand away and waved to get his attention, "I said I don't know, are you even listening to me?"

Jordan cleared his throat and gave a quick shake of the head. "Oh ... sorry about that hon. What did I ask you again?"

"You asked if I knew what they called someone who murders a box of cereal."

"Would you like to know?"

April shrugged whilst moving her head like she couldn't decide if she should nod or shake it.

"A cereal killer," Jordan said. "Get it? A cereal killer." He glided his hand across the air for added effect, laughing as if he'd told the funniest joke in the world.

April's gum chewing came to a halt, eyebrows raised high above her eyes, mouth now a straight line. Uh oh. That wasn't a good sign. If there was anyone whom he thought would've laughed at this particular joke it would've been her.

"What's wrong?" he asked. The longer she held that blank expression on her face was the more his heart fluttered in his chest. What if she was thinking of breaking up with him ... over a joke? That'd be awfully cruel wouldn't it? It was just a joke—albeit a silly one, but a joke nonetheless. Did she all of a sudden lose her sense of humor? "Is everything all right?"

"A cereal ... killer?" April slowly chewed her gum again, looking at him like how his mother would if she suspected him of lying.

"Yeah, you know, like a serial killer but only with ... cereal." Jordan raised his tone at the end so it almost sounded like a question.

He sunk his head back against the headboard of his bed, the room falling ghost-silent. Jordan couldn't help but fold his hands together and twiddle his thumbs. Any minute now April was going to get up, put her clothes on and leave, never to return. The bedroom door slamming in his face would've been the exclamation point.

BAM!

Back to being single.

Jordan never envisaged such a situation playing out especially with the amount of times he had made her laugh throughout the day. Jokes that even he didn't think were funny had her in stitches to the point that folks sitting across from them at the noodle shop looked at her sideways, probably wondering if she had finally crossed over the bridge into insanity.