So hard she was; made of marble, it seemed. All sense, no sensibility. All judgement, no mercy. Stern eyes to grow up underneath. Of goddess material from Greek mythology. Admired, even worshipped. But loved? No, not a warm love. A hard love.

In him, a child not consoled with its physical adulthood; petulant and weak in self-discipline and temper, mind made of blatant stupidity and keen observations in a swirly mix. A love permeated with irritation and absent intelligent conversation.

Still no bridges crossed.

Defenses both built high, so high they could never climb them themselves. Tragic indeed.


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