COMFORTABLY DUMB
She was a one-of-a-kind, with the small exception that she became the model for all who followed in her wake. If nothing else, that made her unique.
He loved her with every microscopic component of his being. She defined the meaning of the word for him. Up until he had met her, live was a fanciful nothing best conveyed by a greeting card. Yes, she was that girl.
When she left him, she left him in a pit if despair. For the first time in his life, things had started making sense. He felt like he actually got it.
Then it went away, all that knowledge and realization, packed up in her tiny suitcase. With a tug of a handle and a casually friendly flicker of the fingers over her shoulder, she had carted it all away.
He spent years mourning the unfairness of it all, the abrupt cruelty of her departure.
He moved on eventually, but the ghost of her lingered on.
He did his best to "get over it" but it didn't take long to realize she would never be fully gone.
In fact, as the years went by, he realized that she was more there than ever. She was in the flowers and the trees and the gently clouded skies.
He had moved on, and she had left, but they were inextricably linked somehow, across the great divide that separated them.
She was the great ghost that would haunt each day to come.
She was the one that got away, the one who would always be there no matter what he did to move on.
She was the perfect ideal and as he stared up through the shimmering leaves of the tree, he missed her more than ever.
Perhaps one day they would be together again. Perhaps one day...
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