Hello, Again

Prologue

A/N - This Note should've been posted about a month ago when this story was first uploaded, but better late than never. The following thing is going to be considerably long and rambling, and will alternate between different time periods within the same chapter - just stating it outright to avoid any subsequent confusion. It's more of an experiment in stylistic approach than anything else, so I apologize if the writing style is too ... flowery.

Anyhow, I sincerely hope you'd find this story worth the time - Happy reading!

~~~

On 17th October 2011, she kissed him for the first time.

It wasn't earth shattering.

Amelia Barnett had been a careful girl ever since she could remember. She didn't walk down staircases without the light on in the hallway, she didn't wait until the last minute to send in her emails, and she never wore heels if she anticipated even the shortest of walks.

Amelia Barnett was a careful, sensible, logical girl.

Which is why it made absolutely no sense why she'd kiss Adam McAllister in a crowded bar on her 23rd birthday.

It would be unclear to Amelia in the years that followed, whether During or After, why she'd done it. Quite possibly she was inebriated at the time, whether with alcohol or happiness she couldn't tell. Or maybe it was sheer recklessness, the allure of blue-green eyes and blonde dishevelled hair and fingers that smelled like paint and a smile that looked like home.

Or maybe, though she didn't consider it for even a second, it was Fate.

You see, it was quite possible that this was the most important kiss of her entire life. More important than the one she shared with her neighbour Timothy in the park near her childhood home. More important than the one she didn't share with Jeremy Warner. More important than the last one she shared with him, the day before he left. It wasn't earth shattering, but Amelia remembered every millisecond of it - the look of surprise on his face as she threw her arms around his neck, the silly way their noses rubbed for a second as she angled her head, the faint whiff of whiskey as she touched his lips with hers and the dull clink of glass over wood as a second later, he set down his glass of scotch and wrapped his arms around her torso, pulling her in until he was all she could feel.

It lasted for a few seconds, it lasted for a lifetime.

Regardless of whether or not she believed in fate, she couldn't bear to dismiss the whole of their history as mere statistical probability. Whatever they may be individually, Adam and Amelia became with that one kiss something collectively, solidly beautiful. For two people who were very capable of leading a solitary life, it was almost miraculous how she could make him think for nights on end and he could make her dream for hours, and how he became her light and laughter and she taught him about a life of delectable agony. If in nothing but each other's memories, they became indestructible.

But love stories don't really work like that - through kisses and moonlight and declarations of passionate love - they tread slowly and quietly, carrying with them the hearts broken along the way, the thousand times we live and die over and over to be the lover, and the pain and confusion and entanglement, and of course, the taste of ashes it leaves in our mouth when things slowly, finally, inevitably fall apart. Such is life.

Amelia believed in tangible happiness. A meal on the table at the end of a long day of work, a sound home to grow old in, and enough money of one's own to be able to get by with - these things, Amelia decided long ago, were a solid, honest foundation to Happiness. Despite her love for the little things like sunshine and mountains and children's laughter, she always appreciated a comfortable existence the most.

A decade ago, that distinction would be enough.

But at three in the morning, Amelia lay sleepless in her favourite city in the world, in a house she could finally pay for, with a job she'd worked tirelessly to excel at for years, reminiscing about a kiss that she loved as much as she hated. Except, the empty space beside her on the twin bed was just as tangible as the roof over her head.

...

Author's Note - Dear Readers, thank you for taking out the time to read this prologue. This is my first time story ever, and constructive criticism is most eagerly welcomed. Do vote and comment if you liked this chapter!