Fate of Ideas

As she stood at the edge of the parapet that evening, she was reminded of the day she first realized how beautiful the city looked at night. Back then it was less congested and the glittering city lights, an almost reflection of the night sky above. She still remembered how light the air was, and how it used to fan her baby curls, flying away with her even lighter spirit.

She pushed her coffee cup off the edge and saw it diminishing to as small as a pebble. A shiver ran down her spine as she heard it shatter against the pavement. The last bit of coffee must have trickled down its sides like blood. A sign board glowed back to life somewhere in the distance. It’s late, she thought.

The pages of her journal trembled in the warm summer breeze. She sat down beside it, her legs aware of the several feet of nothingness just a toe away. Picking it up, she leafed through it carelessly with her ink smudged fingers. Sighing, she picked up the pen again.

a heir-less billionaire, a parched rose, some forgotten words, his limitless eyes 

She struck of each of the images in her mind as she scribbled out their description. They were not images exactly. They were flashes that felt like former life. 

She could swear her life that she has almost seen that billionaire sitting in a park quietly, watch kids play, his Armani picking up a little dust from the bench, his eyes a pool of fulfilled dreams that somehow kept inching into nightmares...

Not just that, she could feel her fingers crush the parched petals of the rose, its light fragrance wafting along, while she had felt a thousand hearts cry...

Also those words that never came back no matter what, words that she had stumbled upon she didn't remember where...

And his eyes, she traced them every day, with one paint brush tucked in her bun and the other frantically stroking the canvas, those lashes were thick and more importantly, that shade of brown with a hint of caramel and honey was almost impossible to recreate, she would still toil for hours, failing, failing everyday...

Someone trampled the cup under their feet. It took its last breath. She let a lone tear slip through her lashes. It was a gift from him... on her 21^st....