The Romantic had fallen so hard for the idea of the Philosopher, that she had invented cadences and accents in his speech. She coined his sayings, diagnosed him with allergies and assigned all of his favourites.
They had many happy memories together in her mind.
Visiting all the little burroughs of the city. Eating food that was too spicy, drinking beer that was too warm. His arm slung casually around her shoulders as they sparred with strangers and starred in their own duet. Laughing. Teasing. Fighting. Photo-booths and reading. Writing, always writing. Side by side, sharing…
The thing about ideas though, they have a tendency to fray the more you try to hold them down. They fade faster than you could write them down, and you’re left with this ache that you’re missing something that’s always just five centimeters out of your grasp.
It’s that potential brush with greatness.
Today's feature image is by Luisa Brimble.