They say they moment humans discovered fire was the moment the human race was destined to survive.
She could have very well been named Sun, for the way she mimicked that bright blazing star. During the first few days of fine discovery, you reveled in adventure, basked in the warm glow of a precious element. But what the gods didn't tell you was that fire had its limits, and one day the sun would come back to burn you.
Good things come in small packages, but you swallowed fire to spite your own throat. You got too close- and after the initial goodness of warmth, the hear became too much for your fragile bones, and you were left with nothing but a pile of ashes.
You did not realize that you were a shining, luminiscent being with a hazardous label which advised not to be near hot things. She was a first rate arsonist with a Midas touch of flames- and the first thing she touched with her bare hands....was you.
When she left you for good, the destruction was great enough to be named after a hurricane. Because that was the only way you could remember "us", through the wreckage; the burns. Touch isn't something you can keep, and you should have known from the moment she said you'd changed, even when you told her otherwise, and begged for her to stay, to love you again.
But change was just another excuse for you to blaze the path away after you pleaded not guilty to the homicide of me.
We used to be something. But now all we have is ashes to remind us of all the things that happened here, and what would never happen again.
L / 18 / SG / undetermined
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last updated: 5 september