The First Hangover

A microfiction inspired by a photo I once took

They’d been stuck in this “perfect” goddam forest for so long they were both sick of it. They could have anything they wanted; they had but to reach for it… anything but this. That was “the rule.”

They argued for days afterwards about whose bright idea it was to just go for it. But it didn’t matter whose idea who it was, who reached for it, who took the first bite, who swallowed first. In the morning, they’d both regret it: their very first, and far from last, mutual hangover.