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So.
That’s it. That’s the story.
But, for me, it prompts a question: Would it have been better if he’d called her earlier and had five days with someone that he connected with absolutely or that it was better that he never saw her again after the party?
It’s one of those silly sliding door questions, of course. We cannot control time, cannot travel backwards and forwards through our days. And, of course, if they had met perhaps she would never have had the car crash. Or perhaps they may have both been killed. Or maybe they would have both become wildly happy and famous and rich or whatever. To me, it doesn’t matter. What we need to accept, what we have to accept, is all of the stupid decisions we make when we make them.
For what it’s worth, I think it would have been better if they had met, that they’d known each for those few days. What’s the difference between a few days and a few decades? We all ultimately lose someone anyway. The point is to know someone, to connect with a fellow homo sapiens, no matter how long.
I know this story doesn’t matter. Ultimately no story does. I know the past is past and our history is already written. But there are times at night, when I am lying by myself in bed when I reach out into the darkness and pretend I can move time backwards. Just so I can be with her.
