I met a young lady the other night. And the storm of her heart was a familiar pity to behold.

She was braving a fresh ache in her heart. To her misfortune, she did not want to yet accept that what she desired was no longer within reach. Whom she sought no longer sought her. A familiar pity. A fortune not fit for any dear soul.

Had I a choice to suffer her woes? Not exactly. She was the younger cousin of Lady Zelda. The lady and I had made time to keep in touch. Not the most desirable of occasions if we were both to be honest, but necessary.

Lady Zelda had already refused my hand, but to our strange misfortune, we were both due to watch a performance. And so we both knew it polite to reacquaint ourselves before the show.

Early in our courtship, we heard a singer we both adored would be in town in the future. In excitement, with means to impress, and of course, many finished cups of courage, I found us both tickets to attend.

That all happened long ago. She had long refused my hand already. And we were both already going about our own lives. But then, just a few nights ago, I was sent a reminder. The show and the singer were due to arrive as promised, and our tickets were ready for the night.

So, I knew what it meant. It was time to redance the dance we had both already abandoned.

Not a problem, to be honest. We both left each other without any animosity. We both just knew we had different ambitions. I was looking for someone’s hand, and she wasn’t willing to promise herself. She asked for friendship, but I refused. A man must respect himself enough to know that loose ends will drain him dry.

But now a new offer of friendship had surfaced. A temporary offer. Why not enjoy the short while as it shone. We both enjoyed the songs. We both enjoyed our cups. And we both knew there would be nothing further than just a friendly night. All a man can do is smile back.

Upon reminding her of the upcoming show, we both knew we had not connected in a while. So we organized for our usual meat and mead in town. But plans were to end early. The lady mentioned she was to later rendezvous with her cousin. But she wasn’t excited to see her cousin. She wasn’t excited to hear more of the sob story. And so I stuck around to ease the burden.

The poor girl. It was her first love. And she was all for making it last as long as it could. Not a silly thing at all, but an entirely silly notion all the same.

From what I could tell, the man she longed for wanted nothing to do with her anymore. Each time she reached out to find even the slightest drop of affection, all she found was coldness and quiet. She was never going to hear the words she hoped to soothe her, and never the embrace to remind her she was cherished.

The sad and familiar part was that she could not see that it was already over. He had shown his disinterests a many times. But she still believed she could reignite the flame. Even if the pire was gone, she still held onto that flame.

We admired her passion. We knew what she longed for. But Lady Zelda and I had already suffered our shares of smothered flames. We already had our own tale together to show her. We knew the story was done. But what could you say to a young heart blind in passion. Only Life could show her what she needed to know.

It was nice to see that there were still souls out there who were willing to fight for what they loved. I feel as if that fight may no longer exist in me anymore. Especially as I looked upon Lady Zelda, I felt the absence of that fire. Even as I remind myself that it was because I no longer felt so strongly toward Lady Zelda, something within me still felt that the old fire within me was dead. The true fire. Or what was left of it. It could barely be considered a flame. I could barely be considered a flame.

What has happened to me over these centuries? Have the endless heartbreakes finally stamped out the last of my embers? It feels like this said fire is more than just a matter of love.  But that is a tale for another time.

A man can only bear so many closed doors until he loses the purity of his heart. I can feel the shadows creep upon me already. They wish to turn me cold. And with what little fire left within, I fear I may not last the deluge.

The young lady’s sorrows are a sad reminder of what I’ve barely survived. But they are also a hope. They remind me to keep the fire alive within. There are still souls out there who wish to give their all. And as she figures out that her fire is better directed towards someone who would cherish her, I too now keep hope that this man will finally blaze his flame for someone who will cherish his wonder.

I hope.

The tides have been looking grim.

But at least now I hope.