In Any Lifetime

by Marc Guggenheim

So appropriate, he thought, that a great man’s final achievement should serve as the site to mark the achievements of other men and women.

Every child pondered why the sky was blue, or what created the universe, or how animals got their names. Jonas was simply one of the small subset of such children who ultimately made those questions their calling. And the questions were themselves the answer, the reason for his existence.

He didn’t care what the rules of dating required. This was different, he told himself. This wasn’t dating. This was courtship, as ridiculously old fashioned as that idea was. He couldn’t wait. He wanted to see her again. She’d either feel the same or she wouldn’t. Either way, the decision wouldn’t depend on the timing or manner of how Jonas asked for a second date.

They collide in the middle of the street and throw their arms around each other, holding on for dear life. Neither speaks. There will be time enough for words later.

He breathes deep and is rewarded with the smell of shit.

not really a reward, per say...

“I’m an artist. Broke is our default.”

“But if destiny is real, then I have to believe that hope is too.”

“hate is a nutritious emotion; one can live off it for years.”

Pursuing a vendetta is exhausting business. Vengeance takes its toll on the vengeful.

Jonas has faith. He has himself. He has the will to get to Amanda, to hold her in his arms again and never let her go.

She expects to feel the return of grief, for it to come roaring back, but another emotion rises in its place. Fury.

and now, in his final moments, he understands that he wanted so much—he has wasted his life on wanting.