Author’s Note: This post was written on the 26th March. The night after King and Queen I. But time was not right, and he never dare to publish this. But the time is not now. And hath been past.
“Til the sands of time runs dry we’ll n’vr part”
…He had always like the seasons. Especially the part where it morphs from one to another. The slow transition from one to another. The turning of colours. From golden red to white. And watching it with her. That was another plus. More of a big big plus.
It had always felt comforting, sitting together on that cooling stone bench, too engrossed in one another’s world to care about the other trespassers that idled around the park. Nosey fellows all of them. Some came with a voyueristic slant, intent on getting a little action that happened in the park every day, or night if one prefers. Some came with their bawling children, so young yet heavily overweight due to a strict diet of the ubiqitious Macdonald’s. Others came walking their terriers, or their Dobermans, howling and crying and one another to show them that that was their territories and no dog should pass. Unless it happens to be the opposite sex.
But all these distractions couldn’t even put the slightest dent to their fantasy world. So deeply lost in each other’s minds they were. Like Siamese twins, some of their schoolmates talked behind their backs. They couldn’t bear to part from each other, even for the longest second. In school, they applied for the same modules together, had the same group of friends, did everything together. If they could live together without censure from their traditional parents, no doubt it would have be done long ago. They were the most loving couple one had ever seen. Seeing them from a distance was enough to put a hundred by hundred square of goose pimples on you.
He was dreaming no longer. No longer snuggling in his bed during rainy days and building castles in the air. He was actually holding her in his arms, protecting her from the harsh winds of reality, showering her with all the love that he could pull out of his soul. Never before had he loved a person that hard, that deep. That kind of love was dangerous, a tiny voice at the back of his mind nagged. Very dangerous. What if she withdrew? What if someday she was gone? “No it wouldn’t happen!” his mind screamed back in frustration. He would always take good care of her, and nothing untoward would ever happen. But what if? Would he crumble to dust then?
She was like his moon, and him her sun. It would be what marine biologists called a symbiotic relationship. Mutually dependable on each other. And if one is gone, call the ambulance, call the Marine Corps! It’s a national disaster!
He didn’t really mind. No matter how near he placed himself over love’s precipice, such that just one tiny push would cause him to go freefalling, he would still love her as hard, as strong. Freefalling would be good as well. Interesting. A shout of exhilaration and before he knew it, he would have already met his watery death in the foamy seas a thousand feet below.
Love. Such a wonderful feeling. It makes even death feels like nothing.