Tragic Love.

They were perfect, in love, in mind, in everywhere else. They the same frequency, conversations flowed non-stop, almost like from a mountain, their little love messages increased everyday and their phone conversations lengthened over time and once the fruit was much too ripe- they were an item. Yes, the perfect item. Almost like a gift from heaven, they taught us how to love. They were just too perfect for words, too indescribable, too, heavenly.

Then came when he had to leave, for somewhere where she could not go. One month's notice, and poof! off he goes on a plane to somewhere on the other side of the world, where? We do not know.

The night before the great departure, tears spilt, flooded levels of their homes, his bags were packed - all ready to go. The last phone conversation - held so dear, she could almost still remember how his voice sounded. Perfect, as it'd always had been. Also, the words he spoke to her, with such sincerity that shone on its own and reeked of love, care, concern which never failed to dig out old suitcases brimming with memories locked up with thrown-away keys.

Why did you leave? She asks.

*

They are only, perfect friends now. If he had not left for that unknown somewhere, where would they be now, how much more perfect would they become?

Time travel and vomit bags. Almost like the relation between memories and tears.

Oh, love can be so tragic.

Louisa-
basedontruestory