her | completed

c h a p t e r f o u r t e e n

"What is life?" She once asked him.

He looked at her, more beautiful than the dark night sky adorned with dozens of glittering diamond stars. And certainly more burning.

He wanted so badly to say her, she is life. So he did.

"Well, what am I then? Why am I life to you?" She asked him, truly confused. She was staring at the sky, thinking pensively, trying to figure it out.

For a second he was worried, she sounded desperate. He was worried, why did it look like her life depended on this question?

"I don't know, but you make me happy, you help make me better. You are good for me. You give me a reason to wake up every morning to see you, and sleep every night to dream of you." He declared, his voice soft, his eyes vulnerable.

"But life doesn't make everyone happy, doesn't give everyone a reason to wake up and to sleep." She said, her distress palpable .

"I don't know," he whispered.

"You want to know what I think," she asked, her voice suddenly cold.

He nodded, but she couldn't see him, she was staring at the dark skies. It didn't matter, she continued anyway.

"I think life is emotions, all kinds of emotions. Otherwise why would you want to  live, meet people, achieve things, eat, marry, write, get degrees, why? Just to satisfy the emotions we have. We, humans, are truly weak." She let out a cold laugh.

A pregnant silence fell upon them. He tried to digest what she said, and let it sink. It was way heavier and deeper than what could sink in immediately. He knew he will have something new to ponder over for the next few weeks, maybe months.

"And you know what else I think," she whispered. "Once someone is not ruled by their emotions, they cease to live."

She finally looked at him, "I think I am getting there."

Only once in his life was he more scared than the moment the words left her lips.