Violet

Nobody wants to start at the end.  People want to witness the story being born, new beginnings taking form as they make up their mind about the characters presented to them. Love stories, especially, can be boring and predictable: the lovers make it or they don’t. What comes after though, that’s the real meat on the bone. What really matters. Yet people are just content with the chewed-out parts, what they think they know and expect to find, rejecting the complexity of the post-coital bliss and what comes after, once passion dies out. If you ask me, this is the only part we should be curious about: what happens behind closed doors, when the lovers are finally left alone to face the unguarded version of their other half. Even better, let’s crack open their skulls later, once they are no longer together. Let’s peek inside the grey matter and see what they are really made of.

            One day we were together, and by the next, I found myself following you home, even though you had taken back the keys and banished me from your life only a few weeks ago. Or was it days? Hours, maybe? See? When you start at the end, time seems obsolete. It’s a good thing you told everyone I was crazy. Because right now, considering what I intend to do, you might be right for once.

…