scribblings

"Love," she said, "is the body's evolutionary response to the need for warmth. But we've taken it and turned it into something it was never meant to be."

He listened, enraptured, as he followed the smooth, gently curving line of her neck with his eyes. His gaze moved across hher face, lingering briefly on her lips before coming to rest on her eyes, which were shining with what appeared to be a burning passion for the subject that she was discussing.

She continued, "Now love is a drug that we use to sell products. It's forced upon us so that we feel obligated to marry, to devote ourselves to one person for the rest of our lives, to commit to one thing and disregard the inevitability of our changing desires. Social tradition keeps us prisoner in relationships in which only the shadow of love remains."

As he watched her, he noticed that the sparkle in her eyes was not fiery passion, but rather the faint whispers of tears that threatened at every moment and every slight shake of her head to spill over the levies of her lower eyelids and expose what she was so desperately trying to hide.

"Nothing is meant to last," she said.

And then he kissed her.

Love,

Squiddy