At heart they shared an  unconventional love. He didn’t “have her at hello”, she did not complete him.
Rather they filled a need in each other and whether talking or kissing, arguing or just drinking coffee together in some out of town place they had it. That indefinable “it”. That “it” that would have made room for Jack on the door in Titanic, that “it” that would have stayed Romeo’s hand.

That elusive quality that people search the world over and pay millions for. She loved him. Exclusively, for all he was and ever might be. Even his bad points she recognised as mirrored
counterparts of her own.
He loved her because she was happy in her skin, she was her own best friend and it shone through as beauty on her face.
Everyone said they made the perfect couple.
They fulfilled every perfect romantic cliché you could dream up and I hated them for it…..

(Sometimes, late at night I get inspiration to write something. This was that something. I’m not sure if I like it. Reads a tad cheesy. Maybe it was one of those better left unpublished.!).

4 thoughts on “The Lovers. (Fiction)

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