Conversations of A Stranger

A story overheard (and then embellished) on the subway

She died of pancreatic cancer years later. The last few years, a misery. A part of me wanted to feel thankful. But what is gratitude tainted, at the pain of others. Probably should have said sorry for your loss or something like that. Now that just feels too mundane a sentiment for the love of my life. 

I told her that years ago before she was ever willing to believe me. It is probably still true even though I have children and a wife. I adore them. I never could decide if it would’ve been worse to betray Her or True Love. Both a conception found in my eyes, and joy was brought to us all when She would join us around the fires we had stoked since Youth. Most people look uglier under firelight, their age and pain exaggerated under the flame’s shadows. Not her countenance though. Serenity in shadow, she’d say. And that wasn’t even a dark thought. Just an observation about Physics, of the laws of this land. It's not really a law if we have no choice but to follow it. God, I loved her when she said s**t like that. Put it all in perspective, ‘cause I was the worrier. And she could find the ageless walk of an 84 year old, or maybe he was just 14. That was the point, you know, she’d chide. I like when she leaned in all close like that. Not really like she wore enough perfume for her smell to suddenly pierce the senses or anything like that. But more just the sentiment, pretending it was all just a little more a secret than it was before. So maybe I love her ‘cause I have to, like it is the law or something. Maybe I just like keeping secret the only promise I ever made. The only part left not to betray or something.