I fell in love with the idea of you.
You know,
that unrealistic belief that the moon is made of cheese,
that I can walk above the water,
that people who fall in love live "happily ever after".
Oh you know,
that meeting you was fate, destiny, chance-and
God I want another-
and not simply coincidence mocking and plucking my
heartstrings.
But I was terrified of the hypothesis I formed of you,
of testing the conjecture and getting appalling and
contradicting results.
Thus,
to protect the fictional character of my book,
I clenched my teeth and walked right past you.