One soggy Thursday afternoon, a man decapitated the woman he loved.
Then he wrote a suicide note with details of how unfavorable “earthly” conditions were for their full-bloom love.
“We are going to the afterlife,” he declared.
“Where there is no limit to what we can do.”
End.
Then he made a suspension of fertilizer in a dirty container (because, what did it matter?). The fertilizer, the farm manager had always insisted must be kept far far away from the vegetables (must be lethal, right?). It smelled like piss, so he had to pinch his nose. It had to go down either way. He even swallowed the pellets at the bottom that refused to be part of it. But he awoke to the beeping sounds of machines, the overpowering smell of urea in his breath and cold, hard metal restricting his hands and legs. No! Not now when he had somewhere to go!
You see, there are people who walk this earth with so much love around them. Too much in fact. So much more than they want or ask for. Too much, that they don’t need it. Too much, that they fill their cups, let it overflow, drizzle down the sides of the table and form rivulets, then the rivulets become torrents that flow in the street carrying dirt and crap into the sewer lines with sewage. Then they decide they didn’t want it after all. So they pour it out and go for the other flavour.
But those who don’t have that luxury, love fiercely. Passionately, madly, until one day that madness becomes an idea.
“What if……what if we never get weary, we never get old, then……….. then this one love can last forever.”
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