All is Fair in Love
Paul and I saw the pink rose painted on a wall. I remember the slow grin that lit up his tired face, just starting to look gaunt, as we all were.
“It’s you,” he said, “Beauty-with-thorns.”
Now as I’m searching for Paul, that rose has reappeared. It can’t be a coincidence. I feel like I’m being led with breadcrumbs, and I know the path may lead to a beast, not a prince. Yet, even with the risks, I can’t stop.
Is love or war fair? Who were you, Paul? Was it all a game? Every year I think, this year’s a different thing. I’ll not think of you with longing—or regret. But how do I banish a past so full of questions? How do I banish thoughts of you without some answers–?
A twig snaps. Is that young backpacker following me?
I’m hosting Prosery on dVerse today with the prompt line:
“This year’s a different thing, –
I’ll not think of you.”
–from Charlotte Mew’s “I so liked spring.”
I’ve continued my spy story with a sort-of-love-themed post for Valentine’s. The previous episode ended with the pink rose.
While I was writing, I thought of this Stevie Wonder song.