A Story

How do you write a story that has not ended yet.
At least not in your head. In reality, in this material world, it ended in the lack of money. That was when she walked away, with promises shattered, joys undiscovered.

But in my head, I like to wipe away those memories and begin anew. Sometimes, I win a lottery and she stays. Sometimes I write a book and become a famous author and she stays. And each time, we live happily ever after. Build a house with a white fence near the sea. Have a lot of children.
In my head it is always a happy ending.

I am now old and rich, with years of contemplation behind me. Yet I do not know what charm those notes of paper held for her.
Today, as I sit in my bed, surrounded by rolls of them, I touch and sniff them. They hold no love, no joy.
They could never have given the love, the happiness that I would have.

Pity, she left without seeing the heaven I could have created for her.

Well, in my head, I still did.

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