Cry not, dear angel.

Some people live their whole lives in misery, believing that certain good things are not supposed to happen to them. Every once in a while, some of these inadvertently cross paths with a certain someone who makes them aware of things they thought they could never experience. Pirouetting under this bitter-sweet charm, they reach out for this person. Rarely, if ever, is this person also passionate about this strange ballet. Time goes on as before and eventually the subjects in question return to their initial melancholy self. Over time, their ballet skills either wither away or are forcibly erased from their concious self...

Then one day, coincidence brings the same two people at an intersection of paths and this time its the other one who wants to swing to the tunes of the music from the past. Not wanting to be the one responsible for torturing the other but at the same time unable to find the dancing shoes long lost, the subject tentatively takes the offered hand, hoping against hope that maybe the music will flow loud enough for both of them. Sadly it does not.

The subject prays for and desperately tries to remember the tune which once flowed so freely and unbeckoned for, surviving on a single strand of hope, a simple yet powerful two-syllable word- 'maybe'. Soon the nights become haunted and the days dreaded. Storm ensues and in a momentary pause, when everything else loses representation and meaning, the last twig snaps.

Finally they plead innocence and say, "Its all for the best!"

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