A Bedtime Story

Once upon a time, there was a boy and girl. Or maybe it was two girls, or perhaps a girl and a ghost. In any case, there was a girl, and there was someone who loved her very much. In some ways, they were very close, and in some ways, they were very far apart.

Now here is something I bet you did not know- everyone is in their own way lovable. Yes, even the bully who pushed you down on the playground, or the thief who stole your bicycle when you left the shed unlocked. Everyone's heart beats in a slightly different pattern, and when they fit together- well, I'm sure you can imagine what happens.

And this girl, her heart beat out a pattern that tattooed itself into her admirer's lungs. Every breath was full of her, and it seemed there was no escape from falling in love with her. So the only solution left was to let it happen.

One day, if you ever have the wonderful misfortune of falling in love, you will notice that love has the most peculiar habit of making you realize that you are not in the slightest bit as clever as you imagined yourself to be. This is not a bad thing. We need deserts and oceans and open skies and true love to remind us that we are small every now and again.

And even though her suitor felt their tongue turn to lead when they saw her, she called them a poet. And when she was lonely, they wrote her reminders of their devotion. Every night they remembered how small they were compared to it all, every morning they remembered how much more significant their kisses were than anything else, and every second they were grateful. And they did not grow old and die together, but they did live, and love.

The End.