Short Story: How They Should Really End

June’s Notes: This is a school assignment. I had to choose a postcard on Post Secret and write a background story based on what was written on the postcard. This is my chosen piece:


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Please give feed back!!

Should I make it longer? Should I add more? Does it convey the postcard?



How They Should Really End

She hurt him to the best of her abilities. It was enough reason to hate her.

It was during a hot summer in 1987 on a street filled with rallying people. She didn’t know what they were there for, while he shouted in support. In reality, they had nothing in common. He was all for the people’s power while she bettered her life by keeping to herself. But they met nonetheless.

The story of how they met was one that never died down amongst families and friends. Even strangers could not escape their telling of their love story. They called it love at first sight. And they claimed that every day was a budding love. She thought of him as someone educated and a person who knew what he wanted. He was decided. He thought of her as someone beyond this world. She was wise.

They would be around mid-twenties before they moved in together. She would be 26, pregnant and unmarried. He would be 30 and ready to settle. So they did what family suggested, they wed.

Their stories about love always started a spark. During a firework show, the first anticipated is the first burst of color. If that burst meets the expectations of the crowd, then everything else turns out just as beautiful or even better. Her story…, it gives hope to the future love endeavors that’s to come. It was the first burst.

They bought a house together. He poured his heart and soul into that house. He fixed the rickety third step to the second floor every time. He paved the walkway so she wouldn’t have trouble walking, with the baby on the way and all. He painted each room the color of love.

The walls were the most tangible things in their relationship.

He did everything because every day she told him she loved him. He supposes, he needed to tell her too, except better, grander.

A lot of love stories try to end happily, like it’s the only acceptable ending. They don’t even end, especially in movies. It’s more unrestricted, a free for all. But she was different. She didn’t spare me the details when her favorite love story came to an end, a simple ending.

The house was sold. I was left to my mother and everything else unclaimed was his.

Like how paint can wear, so do love.

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