to be the other’s

Anna never knew him, in the sense you or I, may. She knew him, in that no doubt lay.

Quentin never knew her, never wanted to but when he did, he knew with absolute, unshakeable certainty.

The girl with the brownest truest eyes met the boy with the angriest, on a day like every other;

Life and Death lay spooned together on a cloud of candy floss and tonic.

They walked together, matched in step and breath and still strange to each other

‘Wait’ stills the air. The leaves pause. Time faltered for the barest of seconds.

‘Wait’ gasps the air. The people are statues and silent for the barest of seconds;

Anna met Quentin at that pause, half opened eyes blinked to the other’s;

The pause flashed the life that was to be theirs.

Blink. The world rushed, biting at its bits again.

Blink. The life that was to be theirs was forgotten as was the pause for the barest of seconds.

Yet, still they walked with a niggling sense of unease prickling the behinds of their neck,

a sort of impatience bristled them, the farther they walked.

The stars meddlesome, troublesome fays that they are paused again,

Blink. He turned. She turned.

They met at crossroads.

Blink. They began together as was to be theirs.


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