A short work of wishful fiction
Some poet or playwrigt or somesuch once wrote that we should all be profoundly grateful to our second Love, for showing us that the light of love shone not from anOther's heart, but from our own.
But surely, responded the most recent candidate for the position of Belovèd, it's nowhere near as fun without anOther shining a similar light back at you.
Depends how well you like mirrors, he smirked. I personally can't get enough of them.
Distracted by the ensuing slurpy noises, he thought but didn't say: Though I'm getting less and less tolerant of the ways that some of them distort my Image.
But surely, responded the most recent candidate for the position of Belovèd, it's nowhere near as fun without anOther shining a similar light back at you.
Depends how well you like mirrors, he smirked. I personally can't get enough of them.
Distracted by the ensuing slurpy noises, he thought but didn't say: Though I'm getting less and less tolerant of the ways that some of them distort my Image.