In his mind, he has with her, all the conversations that he never will. She asks him the questions, that will never actually cross her lips, and he tells her the things, he could never truly say. In his mind, he is honest, and in his mind she cares.
The funny thing is, that even in his most vivid, his most intricate, and his most detailed fantasy of her...they still can't be. He cannot, even with the permission he gives himself, in the freedom of imagination, believe that there is a chance.
Because always in there, no matter how he tries to forget...
No matter how he tries to run from it...
No matter how many times he has ignored it.
That warning.
That message.
Those words from the unseen guide, as he stood in the gray of the swamp.
"If you love her, you must leave her."
Leave her alone.
Lever her to her own life.
Leave her far....far away from you.
But only if you love her.
And he does.
And so he does.
There are, it is postulated, worlds and dimensions, parallel and paradigm, without number. In this moment, he simutaneously visits each one of them. He sees a himself fractured. Split into a billion pieces of his own image, scattered upon each word identical. He is he is he is he is he ad nauseum, and with each he, is she.
She. Laying next to him in bed. The morning sun, elastic on her skin. His fingertips tracing her shoulder blades as she sleeps, Her hair covering her face, and he has never known such peace. In this world, he wishes he could freeze time.
She, Walking the midway of the carnival. Mocking him, for how miserable he failed in winning her the oversized stuffed hippo. He takes the mockery, and laughs with her. Knowing his lack of talent with his own hands. He has never known such peace. In this world, he wishes he could freeze time.
She. Wrapped with him in a blanket. The small Christmas tree, sparsely decorated, with but a few small boxes beneath. Unopened. They are not in a hurry, because they are together, and it is morning, and they have nothing to do, and the day is their own. He has never known such peace. In this world, he wishes he could freeze time.
She. Sitting in a chair. Reading a book. Their baby daughter in her arms, asleep. They have each others eyes. Eyes that he has known, and drowned in. He is overwhelmed with this thing that never seemed real, and it is real. Here, it is real, and in this world, he wishes he could freeze time.
She. Holding his hand. His breathing becoming more and more shallow. The light in his eyes fading. He won't be here much longer, he seems already gone, except for the fact that each time she speaks...he smiles, and in this world, she wishes she could freeze time.
And in each world, the single thing they have in common, is the smell of the incense burning on the nightstand in this world.
He pulls back in to himself. He leaves his parallels and paradigms behind. He wishes each him, in each world the increase of joy he has witnessed.
"If you love her, you must leave her."
Leave her alone.
Leave her to her freedom.
Leave her to her life.
Leave her free from the pain of you.
And he does.
And so he does.
He steps outside. The rain and snow both, falling slowly from the calm night. Decorating the landscape in a fleeting pristine, and although he hates the cold...tonight he finds comfort in it.
He takes notice of each piece of wet, striking his face. He listens to the empty sound of nothing, and takes a breath.
He wishes he could freeze time...and so he does.
He sees the flake of white frozen water in front of him. He whispers to it, her name. He lets time resume, and watches the flake hit the ground. He watches it melt. He watches it become water with the rest. He wonders how far her name in that water, will spread across this planet.
And he does.
And so he does.
Oh God this is perfection. ❤
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