Wrong Person, Write Love.

Prose 041: "Presque Vu"

It'll always be agonizing watching someone you love slowly losing interest in you.

It's just like reading a new found favorite book. You know exactly that the story is already ending, although you may not know how many pages were left.

That's when we start to realize things. You'll notice how much our excitement to know how the story unfolds made us turn every page a little faster than we should - without paying quite enough attention to its smaller details.

And then suddenly, you feel like you haven't understood much of what happened. Sometimes even though you thought you loved the book, you still can't quite recall what exactly brought the ending.

And so you'll try to get back to some pages and find what you've missed; any repetition you could've ignored, any line that you skipped because you deemed it too cliché, or clauses that should only be parted by a comma, but were both forced to end with a period.

There should be any slight change in the climax, at least, that could've set that falling action into motion. Perhaps an unusual raindrop on a sunny day, a beautiful sunset that seemed a little longer than the others, a forced smile, or a shooting star waited upon but never came. You'll try to find something different - something off, a foreshadowing that you failed to notice.

You may or may not find it. But either way, it will surely break your heart. The only difference finding it will make is that you'll somehow understand what brought everything to that denouement.

I tried to find it too, you know? But I can't point it out - although I feel like I've known it all the time.

But looking back, I learned something.

Our story taught me, darling, that no matter how much someone loves you - there's no guarantee that it will never change.

No matter how different or great you thought the story might be.

- Aries Writes