ilovestoriesbecausetheyfascinateme;icanlosemyselfintothelivesofmyfavoriteheroes.livesthatconsistofadventuresanddramasidon’tormaynevergettheopportunitytoexperienceinreallife.someofthemexplorethebravenessofovercomingalife-threateningillness,othersmighttellthestoryofanextraordinarylife—fromagirlinapoor,smallvillagetoafamousoperadiva;fromanuglyducklingtoabeautifulswan.
exceptthat,iwasn’tadiva,idon’thavethexfactororenduranceforthegrandopera;nordoihavethegenestobecomeabeautifulswan.ihadimaginedthat,throughbookandstories,dramaandlovewerethesame,theywerelikethisbuy-one-get-one-freesalespackageinyourlocalsupermarkets.butrealityalwaysprovesmewrong,otherthingsexisttoo.justlikeasentenceinanovelionceread,itgoes:dramaandpassionarejustverycleverdisguisesforalovethathasnevertakenroot.“ineveryrelationship,therearecertaintiesthatbind,muchmoresubstantialthantheactuallove;thesearethereallifetrivia,solitudes,theyaretheunspokenforcesthatkeepitgluedtogether.“
ilimpedtowardshim,extendingmyarmsthatwerecoveredbygoosepimples.thewindwasblowinglikearazor,twistingpeople’sfacesleavingthemunrecognizable.iwithdrewoneofmyhands,tryingtowipeoutthetearsonmyfacetoslowitdown.iwonderedifitwasthewind,thetearsacceleratedundertheflickeringlamplight.iblinkedmyeyes,strivingdesperatelyforthefaceofben,anditwasjustlikeanothertypicallousyghostmovie,benwasfaceless.
“miss,wearelandingintenminutes,wouldyoupleasesitupandfastenyourseatbelt?”someonewaspattingmeonmyshoulder.
iremovedmyeyeshadeandglancedupattheairhostess,“oh,ofcourse.”