'There is no such thing as a true love story,' sighed the girl, 'There is only tragedy or farce.'
Her friend looked up sceptically, 'You've been reading too much Shakespeare,' he said.
'No...' she murmured, 'I've been watching too much of the real world.'
The boy stood up, and began to pace, 'Reality is a lie, it's an overly used and neglected cliché of a half truth. To find the lovers you so clearly seek, you have to turn to something more obscure...'
It was the girl's turn to look doubting, 'More obscure...?'
'More obscure,' pointed out the boy, 'But more true. Look at the sea and the sky, they have never been parted. Every day they mirror each other's emotions from speckled pink innocence to a bloody red lustfulness. The two of them are locked in a continual embrace... have you ever seen a more well suited couple?'
'And yet they have such spiteful, growling arguments,' the girl fiercely objected, 'The sea lashes out and abuses the sky in an angry black fury, leaving his haughty lover's blue skin bruised with ugly patches of gray.'
There was a silence as the boy's racing thoughts slowed down to a steady trot, 'So, by your standards, what is that...?'
'A tragedy,' she replied curtly.
'You're right,' he said, 'Let me think... how about lungs and the air that they breathe? The two of them are together in everything they do. It's an ideal partnership.'
'No it isn't. It's a bitterly sad farce,' said the girl bluntly, 'For the lungs cannot survive without the support of the air, and in spite of this the air still goes around visiting and 'loving' other lungs. Therefore that isn't true love. It's like I said there is no such thing as a love story. Whether it's obscure or not.'
Watching her carefully, the boy smiled slightly, 'Sin and the sinner. The sinner can't stay away from the sin he so often commits. Sin's velvet essence confounds him, fascinates him, sustains him. As he carries out such delicious atrocities he can almost hear the siren's song in his jaded ear. Sinners simply adore sin, whilst sin itself cannot exist without the sinner to commit her and, in doing so, he pledges himself to sin's silk-lined ways. It all intertwines into one.'
Snorting, the girl said, 'That's just pure nonsense! The way you see the world, it makes no sense!'
Folding his arms, the boy retorted, 'It makes perfect sense. I just try to see the relationship in everything, the truth in nothing, the evil in every good deed and the good in every crime.'
Comprehension dawned slowly on the girl, 'I've been blind... at least, in some way... haven't I?'
Bending down, he pulled her up from where she sat cross legged on the grass, 'No,' he reassured her, 'You've been deaf. The whole world is deaf and every single person is singing out of tune as they desperately try to join in humanity's symphony. Listen.'
And she listened to the iridescent discord.
'Breathe,' murmured the boy.
So she breathed, and inhaled the world's hot spices and the frost kissed grass of winter.
'Now,' he whispered, 'Now open your eyes. Properly this time.'
Tentatively, the girl opened her eyes, properly this time. And, at last, she saw.
'See?' he asked.
'I.... I see...' she exhaled.