"Are we gonna do anything if Tom died?" I asked him.
"Yes, we're going to give him the burial he deserves, with as much dignity as we can."
"What are you talking about?" asked Tom. "I'm right here. What is it, you think you know something I don't?"
"No, Tom," I replied. "Don't worry about it. We were just talking about hypotheticals - what if our spouses died, and how we would react. Nothing nefarious going on around here." I laughed.
"There better not be," said Tom, going back to watching TV.
Sam and I continued to probe the future.
"And your wife," I asked, "what about her?"
"It would be a terrible thing," he said. "I would be totally devastated. I wouldn't even know what to do. You know that feeling you get when it feels like you're frozen in time? That would be me."
"I've been around a while," I said. "I've watched so many of my loved ones pass on. I could help I think."
"You think you'll outlive Tom?" he asked.
"No doubt," I said. "I don't think anything can stop me. Not even myself. I'm at a good place now, but you wouldn't believe how many times I've wanted out throughout these generations. I'm still looking for someone like me. I feel like a freak of nature."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," he said. "Considering how long you've lived, I would've thought you'd be a lot wiser by now."
"No, they still destroy me each time, even though I know it's inevitable. And you too - I don't want to think about what I'll say at your funeral," I said. "Each time I tell myself never get close to anybody again, each time I give in and take on new friends and new lovers. I should probably stick to dogs."