Posted in Musings

The Wrong Bed Of Roses

It was all over the internet yesterday, a short sequel to a movie that had taken the box office by storm a decade back. A portrayal of the protagonists as quarantined souls in the current world, a slice of life wrapped in a five-minute phone call. She is married with two kids, happy and content, and he still loves her. She is all he needs, always. Her voice is what would bring him solace, clear his mind, and he harbors the desperate fantasy of a day when they would unite. And she accommodates his alternate reality, like a parent letting her child hold on to Santa, knowing well that it was all just a lie.

All I could think of at the end was, does love have to be this hard and horrible?

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