A droubble by TerrenceOblong
We always referred to it as our future, the ever-growing wad of blue-note, stored secretly behind the panel in the wardrobe.
We talked endlessly about how we'd spend it; we were going to have a grand wedding, but decided on a registry office job, keeping the money for more important things, starting a family, sending our kids to university.
We didn't know then that we could never have children. When we found out we kept saving, said that we'd need money in our old age, but perhaps we just needed something to invest our dreams in. Our nest-egg became our hope, our future. We'd retire early, see the world, spend, spend, spend 'til we died.
As the years passed the money grew, and our love grew stronger too. We worked on past retirement, building up our secret savings to dragon's hoard proportions. "Another year in work," we said to each other, "and we'll have enough money to never have to worry about anything again."
We both lived to the age of 101, dying within a week of each other. Our future outlived us both. It remains hidden in the wardrobe, secret and secure from the world, slowly dwindling in value.