A Story (sorta) ...

I was bored and wrote a little short story. Not even a story since nothing happens, more like tib-bit of a stream of conscience plastered on a computer screen.

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DISCLAIMER: The author hereby disclaims all implications that the following is autobiographical in any way. The characters and events depicted in this story are fictions. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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He sits there, quietly, pondering his life. “How did I reach this point in my life?” He wondered. While at the same time he knew the answer. Love is at fault, but he dare not even whisper this idea, for only a cynic blames love for the hardships in life.

Is he heartbroken?

How many things about her must he love before he can say, “I love you?” How many moments of bliss must he experience with her, before he can call it love? How many moments of anguish must he feel in her absence to label it love?

Yes, he’s heartbroken! She refuses his advances. He will never survive this.

Ring! Ring!

A call …

It’s an old friend; she wants to get together for lunch. Then he remembers, he loves this one too! She’s single now. All is well again ….