Love couldn’t be shades of gray like most things. His shadows wouldn’t accept that. Maybe that was why imagining a future with him was uplifting, but remembering a past with him was maddening.
What happened when Eros was a loose cannon, when Cupid switched to grenades? Feelings everywhere, mixing to the point where the forensic scientists couldn’t sort out the casualties. So an elbow to the face for both. When he’s not looking, he means he’s not looking.
Failure on the launch pad meant either an explosion and a tragedy, or just an investigation, and we’ll try again in a week or two. He never knew which. He was too busy attracting attention obliviously, wondering what everyone was looking at. The dumber he got, the smarter he looked.
Was that the answer? Requiring perfection, and letting people show themselves out? He’s not perfect either. Maybe he should be the one to leave. He should be silent in any case. Silence is golden? Maybe more of a silver silence. He’s not worth much, according to the flyover states.
Big fish in a small pond, small fish in a big pond, neither applied. He wasn’t a fucking fish. If anything, he was the grizzly atop a waterfall, chewing salmon just trying to get home. He was hungry. But did this really need to be so cruel? They had come so far. He should be shot and mounted just to be fair.
Nothing is fair. So parts of him hibernate, a long and necessary sleep. It is the way. Under the rug is where the dust is. Start there, and uncover the truth.
He wasn’t that good.
He’s not as smart as anyone ever thought he was, because they asked the wrong questions. They saw only the spinning top newly released from kinetic charge. No one ever stuck around long enough to see the spin stop, and the top wobble and fall.
No one cared that much. Maybe he’s just weak. He should just stop talking. Silver silence. Library, after closing. Taking it in, letting nothing out. A locked room mystery for this hibernation, killed by too much love and not enough shutting the fuck up.
A mute. He applauded with the sound of one hand clapping. Dried his ever-leaking eyes, and slept the sleep of silence.