Inspired by the word "Palindrome", not the word of the day, but I like it anyway.
Why did everything always move in circles?
Susan was alone. Life was full of bars with too much beer and wondering where to find someone.
And then he appeared, and there were unending conversations and dates and long walks and nights spent doing anything, anything except sleeping and it was miraculous and it peaked somewhere around… here.
It faded; the conversations got terser and the dates sparser. His feet started to hurt and they stopped staying up all night.
And there was drinking too much and wondering where he was.
And she was alone.
Everything always moved in circles. Why?
Part of me desperately, now, wants to write a story that is a palindrome. I've done mobius strip stories, but those are pretty simple. But palindromic? It's the old mirror-story rearing it's ugly (and frustratingly difficult to write) head. One day I'll write it. It will be awesome.