how the worlds are lost and won… a story of possession and creation

their hands met. his right palm against her left, her left – against his right. his were a little thicker, hers – subtly smoother, but they were, oh, so similar, almost indistinguishable.

they talked through nights, and could not stop thinking of the other one for days. they went to bed in different houses at different ends of the city, but they fell asleep and woke up together. they made time for each other, and the world was beautiful.

their hands explored their bodies. their hearts trusted each other. the world was wondrous and new, and nothing they could do would hurt the other.

then she wanted him only for herself. to possess him completely. and for a while he let her, because the world was so new, and nothing had fences and borders.

then one day, only their world remained, the everywhere else was gone.

he sat up in the morning, and saw nothing.

she saw only herself, and him as a mirror image of her.

he rose, took his shirt and put it on. all in silence.

– so, you’ll be leaving then,- she said.

he put on the rest of his clothes.

– without a word, just like that,- she said.

he opened the door and went into nothing.

now when he looks at his hands, they are all covered in burns. it was his flaming heart he threw into the nothing to create the world again.

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