The Glass

Was it her fault that... no it wasn't falling in love - that was too typical. And he was far from typical. He made her realise that her previous attractions were only sleazy, lazy guys that hoodwinked naive girls like herself with sweetly guised words and smirks. He was brilliantly genius and unconventionally attractive. With him she felt like a bird released into the cool, tranquil dusk at the end of a strenuous day. Initially.

It was at a particular art exhibition that she met him. Or he discovered her. As fate would have it (and she knowingly contradicted herself by saying she believed in fate, but also believed she could choose her fate), he was standing behind her in line to pay the admission fee. She had absent-mindedly scanned him and something about his easy stance and self-assured expression had repelled her - she doubted he would give her a second look. On the other hand, he had misjudged her physical features to think she could not speak English well. However this misjudgement only heightened his fascination of her as her uniquely sweet voice and mature accent enraptured him as she seemed to flutter her arms and chirp excitedly as a friend approached. It was something about her unassuming presence, along with her shy appearance barely containing the life inside of her that interested him.

But he was a coward and couldn't muster himself to speak to her. Therefore it was to his pleasant shock to walk in on her by herself in a small, curtained-off alcove.

Looking up from the abstract sculpture, she smiled nervously. He immediately rocketed off with cascading stories to tell, and although she was flattered by his attention, his almost arrogant nature stiffened her smile. Then she was vaguely surprised as he asked for her number. After that, tiny fireworks seemed to ricochet off each other's minds through texts.

She couldn't see him for over a month because she was busy. But he waited, and eventually asked her to be his girl - despite the fact that she would be leaving the country in two months. She was pleasantly flattered by his attention, but it all seemed a little rushed and her carefully guarded heart failed to block out her observations of their differences. Yes, they were both intelligent and could easily understand and explain each other's thoughts. However, she doubted he would invest much time and effort to keep her for a long time.

He was truly beautiful in every sense - but maybe that's why she was afraid. It was like flying through dusk - pleasant and sweet, but to continue flying into it meant having to fly into the night. She would be digested in its dazzling darkness. If she continued to let herself fall into this unknown darkness, she would recklessly fly into all sorts of boundaries and mechanisms that kept her safe and sane. And these jagged glass tunnels of darkness would indelibly rip her innocence and dignity.

She just felt too deeply. She could feel herself falling too deeply into him, at the same time she was barricading herself from him. It was like building a moat full of crocodiles around a sinking island: pointless, and ready to come back and nip the back of your heel. But she would still do it nonetheless.

Falling in love with him was like flying into glass windows and exploding.

To like him, she had to let go of herself. But to fly through complete darkness was inexplicably self-demolishing.

That was just her. When she flew, she flew with all her might and passion and self - she could not control her omnipotent emotions.

It was a sweet curse to blindly fly so deep into the night. And it killed her.

#challenge: What if... birds blew up when they hit windows?