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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac

Flash in a pan

It turns out that time rots everything, even our thing. Having sleepwalked through the cruise, and everything in between, we were aged beyond the careless youth, and yearn for a consistency beyond those delusions. Desperate to not let the world do us in, I got her from the stage and we ran out, hands intertwined, and it turned out we had been still in the damned theater in the cruise, and we had to leave this monstrous thing that had stifled our love for its own purposes, none of it noble or smart, but petty and vindictive. She asked me if I felt the same, and I looked at her, aged by time, and said you are the most beautiful girl in my eyes. Because it was true, ignoring the wicked hearts that conspired to blind us with fake ideas and false wisdom. Tears fell, and hard at the deck side.

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