The Romantic wanted someone to fall in love with the way she fell in love with words, plots, heroines and villains. This made her susceptible to sweet nothings, plot twists and getting so caught up in her fantasy that she sometimes could not distinguish which was reality.
She became too comfortable losing herself in these created worlds where for a few hours she could be whoever she wanted to be and be loved by the men she wanted to love. As the years went by she plundered deeper into the depths of the library, glancing up idly at other patrons.
Every Reader gave the dormant Hope a jolt.
A chance meeting at the check out desk; Essays in Love, The Lovers’ Discourse, A History of Love meets How Proust Can Change Your Life, Aleph, How to Win Friend and Influence People made the Romantic aware that long, fine boned fingers, neat shirts and amused smiles existed in real life as well.
It must be kismet! thought the Romantic they didn’t even go to the same sections in the library.
The Philosopher enjoyed what books could give to him; tips, answers and perhaps wisdom. He had clear goals in mind and wanted to know how to achieve them.
He said that he was open to all interpretations of life, (in an undertone, “So long as they are true.”) He had no time for the Romantic’s fantasies, he couldn’t or wouldn’t understand them.
Maybe if the Romantic had stayed with him in the library forever, dug deeper with him they could have found common ground.
But it got too hard being in the dark just talking of sunshine. It got too heartbreaking to hear the Philosopher say he believed in love when all he did was talk about the possibility of falling in love with her. It got too tiring to try to get him to indulge in a bit of whimsy with her. He would rather discuss the life he wanted to live than live one with her.
While he slept she enlisted Daedalus’ help, tied a knot around his wrist and wept silently back to life. She kept hoping the Philosopher would notice her absence but the Ariadne Thread trailed lifelessly behind her.
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