One last time

We suit up, listening to Captain's voice commanding us to, putting on our Marvel merchandise apparel, a good number of them screaming Tony Stark's name in the form of bright, shiny arc reactors on our chest, but none brighter than the brightness of our faces as we walk into the moments of revelation of the conclusion of one of our most favourite stories ever.

As the moment approaches, we relive all those days when we laughed and cried, in rapt obedience to the writers' nudges, watching, rapt, the screen lives of characters that unfailingly became a part of our own selves, when Yinsen asked Tony to not waste his life, when the old, Einstein-like Dr. Erkinske made Steve Rogers promise that he'd continue to be a good man, when Thor chose to sacrifice himself, thereby deserving the hammer, when Fury made up a small lie to unite the Avengers, when Tony and Bruce's plan to develop an AI to protect the world backfired, all those joke with people calling each other names, all the way up until that snap in infinity War.

The fever of anticipation reaches a zenith as we walk into the okay looking theatre. My brother makes a note of observations to mention on the theatre's Google review, with me pitching in points but we both know we don't care. We know that we are just trying to rush time into giving us the movie we have waited so long for.

Incidentally it has been exactly a year after we watched infinity war, and we know this day is going to be memorable. We tremble in anticipation as we push ourselves through the crowd of Marvel fan brethren, wanting so desperately to reach our seats on time.

As the words "Marvel Studios" come on the screem, we curl up, our hungry eyes sitting unblinking behind 3D glasses, finally seeing what we waited so long to. We are going to have this moment. One last time. And this moment is ours. My brother's, mine and Marvel's. And we'll own this and give it our everything. Whatever it takes.