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Human versus appliance, ex-smoker versus chain-smoker, a smile versus a sneer and warmth versus ice.
‘Do you believe in fate?’
A question, like a loaded gun, and one of those in the glove compartment of her car. A tongue, a testy remark, a voice in the back of her mind telling her to take a chance and hesitation because of being hurt too many times to count.
Later – a folder of papers. A file, a wastepaper basket and the weight of a decision. Loss as a controlled variable and reactions aplenty. Tombstones, epitaphs, empty graves. Tears, fallen and unshed, and for every one of them an ice brick around a beating heart that was never made of stone.
Do you believe in fate?
Two palms touching, despite the sheet between. Phone calls and sound waves making a connection when the reaching grew invisible. A girl, a boy, a life never meant for them. Family, truths and more lies than the lesser whilst a ghoul still reigned.
A fairytale, gone wrong.
A kiss, a flight, a dance, a chase
A once sweet angel fallen from grace
Brothers, count them, one two three
Raised from hate and power, greed
Three twins. Birth date, eyes and guile – more of a mirror reflection than could ever be liked. Voices, sadness and destruction in a mind that deserved it not, and a white dove caught in the cross fire. The devil, a tragic hero and prince with the world to rest on his shoulders.
A father, a mother. Neither there.
Yeah, sure. I believe in fate.
A script to follow – somebody to blame but herself.
Forever and eternity, a childhood and an evermore. Broken wings, a painted smile, a glass of scotch and smoke as a security blanket. A chance, a wish, a hope, a dream. A grab for coins and a return to a car without a backward glance. Memories of someone who didn’t have to stay a stranger, years spent drinking and smoking and ignoring a studio hidden behind a wall. A remainder of life spent wondering what if, why not and if only.
Fate. Destiny. Predetermined.
‘Even fate couldn’t be so cruel.’
A door slams shut, sunglasses slide down and a key turns in the ignition.
She’s not so sure she believes it.