i. we were promised romance, or at least some type of it. special circumstances call for adaptation of expectations of course, so a stollen kiss between smiles would have just done it.
ii. laughter was also on the menu we ordered, came somehow strange with a sour taste that was all but expected. yet, there were no complaints.
iii. then there was supposed to be life and joy and moving on and becoming a stronger person. there were promises that she overcomes it, that she doesn’t die. twice! so we fought, with the illness, the hair loss, loss of appetite, loss of willingness to live. ordinary things seemed odd and required going the extra mile. nonetheless, there was life promised at the other end of the equation, so fighting then should make sense, that’s at least what they tell you.
iv. forgiveness also comes. after all he’s just one of the lost boys, frightened, no idea where his life is headed. why should he be the one dealing with all this?
v. death doesn’t knock on the door. it leaves your head ringing long after it’s gone and before you realise it has taken away what was given for granted.
she does die.
no matter the promises.
no matter the fight.
no matter the time.
leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that you cannot wash off the whole night. left frustrated, it wasn’t supposed to end like that, he promised she would live on.
but she doesn’t.
vi. slight shock and the cold shower of realisation.