Postlude: Brewing

Meta conclusion to the foregoing semi-romantic fantasy of the two dear friends. The real life net friendship is over and Emma is bitter and disillusioned. She'll never be the same again.

Cooling teapot beside her, Emma leafed through the old notebook. All that had been written about nine months earlier. 

None of these lovely things were ever going to happen. Ethan, in a fit of social anxiety, had posted a message at his blog in April, demanding that people not depend on him for support. Emma had taken this personally as a rejection and, in angst and pain, had written a venting, hurt, and rather resentful explosion of prose. She had not intended to post it anywhere, at first, but since it was in response to Ethan's post, it was still open when the blaze of pain was done. In a moment of carelessness, the supposedly private moment was posted as a direct response to Ethan's...which meant that Ethan had been alerted to it. Even though that side blog was one that nobody at all had followed or probably ever even noticed, it was still found out in the moment before Emma, in a wild panicky moment, erased it. The text made it clear enough that it was Emma's writing. Unwilling to be hurt or blamed again for her own acts of self-protection, Ethan understandably called the friendship off, for his own well being.

None of it had happened, or would ever happen. Never again could they even hug each other over the Internet, let alone in person. Ethan and Emma would never save each other.

Emma felt broken and could only ever blame herself for her moment of stupidity. It was wholly avoidable. If she had only been careful...! But no, she acted in blind emotional panic and it was all over.

The beautiful dream, the promises of eternal mutual affection...it was all just a fantasy. 

The little teacup was still filling up. Not with tea, but with tears. 

Emma had destroyed her own world of safety, encouragement, and support, and had destroyed, herself, in one blow, a friendship that should have lasted years and years. Fifty years or more, indeed. 

Emma pulled her beard and cursed herself again and again and again. Exiled from Emma now, the foolish man was exiled from all fantasy. 

What a prison is the real world. What a hell.

Damn Emma forever. Damn her. 

Damn me. 

Damn.

Author's Note

It's done now, but will need some cleaning up and proofing.