The end barged in before the start was ready.
He wanted her happy. He wanted the best for her. When and where the rain began beating, he knows not. She was his sister. Or so he thought.
Gradually he noted what he understood not. His heart would skip a very important beat and sudden sadness would engulf him whenever she’d mention XY, her happiness.
No sooner had he come to terms with his unexpected reality than it all went down the drain.
Speaking them not does no good. Speaking them out does no good either. Neither of the above being an option, silence becomes the better evil.
Burying. Six feet under or deeper, how about it though? Sounds like the best evil. Buried never to be recalled on this earth, maybe a revisit of it in the New Jerusalem where they’d all laugh it out.
On second thought
The start of what? The end of what?
Nada!
herlife.science.blog 