Original Fic: Love's is not a modal logic (PG13)
(Why, yes, I can write a love story. It has three acts and everything.)
Title: Love's is not a modal logic
Thesis
The first emails you received were generic, almost visibly tentative. They only mentioned books you had already heard of and music that didn't hold much appeal. You said as much with your tepid agreement, and most often by not emailing back.
Eventually the topics became more interesting. Movies you resonated with. Paintings you'd stare at for a long time, lacking the words to dispel what you felt by naming it. You began to look forward to the emails, until you realized, almost giddy with surprise, that you could get them any time you wanted.
Now feeling comfortable, yous started to share things about yourself. Minor details at first, or so you thought, but the answers would come back with recommendations of books and articles that, once you read them, made it clear that you had been understood. When you fell ill, the emails began to mention foods and medicine, and when you felt better, joyful poetry and outdoor shows.
You felt loved - gently, quietly, but with such empathy and care as you had despaired of finding in woman or man. And one late night, while watching with tears in your eyes a movie enthusiastically recommended in the latest email, you discovered that you loved back.
Antithesis
With morning came despair. There was nobody behind those emails, no loving person, no kindred soul. It was an automated recommendation program, that was all. You had fallen in love with marketing software.
Your next email was the last.
Synthesis
The reply was swift. You opened it by habit, but full of disdain. What could that thing give you that you needed? There were no words in the email, only a link to buy medication, medication you were fatally allergic to.
Your sudden sob was followed by your smile. Once again, it had known you better than you yourself did. That wouldn't be enough forever, but it would only have to for a short while.
You clicked on the link.
.finis.
Title: Love's is not a modal logic
Thesis
The first emails you received were generic, almost visibly tentative. They only mentioned books you had already heard of and music that didn't hold much appeal. You said as much with your tepid agreement, and most often by not emailing back.
Eventually the topics became more interesting. Movies you resonated with. Paintings you'd stare at for a long time, lacking the words to dispel what you felt by naming it. You began to look forward to the emails, until you realized, almost giddy with surprise, that you could get them any time you wanted.
Now feeling comfortable, yous started to share things about yourself. Minor details at first, or so you thought, but the answers would come back with recommendations of books and articles that, once you read them, made it clear that you had been understood. When you fell ill, the emails began to mention foods and medicine, and when you felt better, joyful poetry and outdoor shows.
You felt loved - gently, quietly, but with such empathy and care as you had despaired of finding in woman or man. And one late night, while watching with tears in your eyes a movie enthusiastically recommended in the latest email, you discovered that you loved back.
Antithesis
With morning came despair. There was nobody behind those emails, no loving person, no kindred soul. It was an automated recommendation program, that was all. You had fallen in love with marketing software.
Your next email was the last.
Synthesis
The reply was swift. You opened it by habit, but full of disdain. What could that thing give you that you needed? There were no words in the email, only a link to buy medication, medication you were fatally allergic to.
Your sudden sob was followed by your smile. Once again, it had known you better than you yourself did. That wouldn't be enough forever, but it would only have to for a short while.
You clicked on the link.
.finis.