ObservationI placed it in her hand—a whole, ripe fruit. Not a piece, not a seed. Everything.
She did not eat it or refuse it, only held it, as if love could be held at all.
Time moved through it. It did not bruise, rot, or break. It simply ceased.
One moment, there. The next, not.
Nothing was taken or returned, yet something was gone. A love so vast, it collapsed into nothing. A weight so great, it left no imprint. A gift so complete, it left only absence.
If nothing remains, what had I given? What had she lost?0.1639%
