Years later, when you are married to a wealthy corporate figure and have two kids who both are named Wrolf because you particularly like that name, and you belong to a local book club that caters specifically to flash fiction because everyone in your club has busy lives, your happiness and contentment will be interrupted for good when you get a phone call.

"Hello, this is Chadsworth."

A moment of silence passes.

"This is Shit. We had a one night fling ten years ago."

"Shit... how did you get this number?"

"Thats not important. I called to tell you I am HIV positive. You should get yourself checked.

And so you do. And you have AIDS. And you die.

Now:

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.