at the end of the day, no one comes to “save” you in life but there are a lot of people who can make the work feel lighter with a song or the pain feel better with a kiss and that’s how I’ve come to see love. Not really as an infallible shield against the daggers of the world but rather as a rest stop that gets prettier with however much renovations i take the time to put in. one with a sign that says “stay a while & here’s an umbrella for the storm outside”.
“Mr Darcy is not a romantic hero. He’s a socially inept nerd,” I say into the mic.
The crowd boos. I begin to walk off the stage in shame, when a voice commands silence from the room.
“She’s right.” I look to the owner of the voice. There in the 5th row stands: Elizabeth Bennet herself.
“Why is it called morning?”
“Because it’s a verb.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. It’s a malaprop for the term of grieving for one’s loss.”
“You mean mourning?”
“Yes. Think about it. The sun has chased the moon all night, and every time it comes close the moon gets away. The sun is in constant mourning. So it’s called morning.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. It’s eleven at night right now. But it’s morning for me.”
“But we’re in the same time zone.”
“Yes. And I miss you.”
xq
