The tale of the candy wife

Yesterday, I met an old friend. Not so old that its been years since we saw. Old in the sense that it seems like eons since we last spoke.

Our meeting was more hurried and business-like than friendly. “Hi”, I muttered. He replied, collected his hard drive which i borrowed a month earlier and we fled.  No backward glances. No shy smiles.

Any person looking would have thought we’d never met before . But this is what happens (sometimes) when you have a boyfriend and another guy comes along. Someone who’s as hungry and ambitious and wanderlust wracked as you.

This is how the game goes. Normally.

1. Roll dice to get friendly.
2. Get really friendly over pizza and drinks.
3. Totter at the edge of “Cheaters’ Canyon”
4. Fall in and break all limbs.  Get amputated too.

OR

4b. Fall in and get saved by Prince Wanderlust who was calling to you from the bottom of the canyon and was the reason you went near the edge in the first place.

OR

4c. Grab branch by the edge, pull self up, turn and run home to candy house.

I chose 4c.

Leaves a gnawing, slowly fading “What if” feeling which I’ve learnt to ignore. Its good for practise though.

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