- Vol. 05
- Chapter 10
There are lines, traces unseen present on your face when light, the mood of the day unresolved boundaries blurred by memories, places and dreams without names, fade with time to clarity. I know I’m lost, reeling within white and red spiralling tracks of a labyrinth without exit, the echo of your words. When will I carry my own weight? you said. Get a job or something? Your monotone voice puts me to sleep, you said, share something introspective or let me read my book. The fear of being alone again is all that keeps us committed. It could have been consummate companionate, fatuous, romantic love or liking—all permutations of commitment passion, and intimacy. And what we got is empty love.