“Charming” is supposed to be this abstract concept of politeness and decency, holding doors and offering seats and a good smile.  It’s a TV gimmick that makes you fall in love with the hero and grudgingly respect a villain every once in a while.

But I swear that in his case “charming” must be an actual object, a piece of witchcraft hidden behind his scrappy, flighty, fierce exterior.  There has to be something behind this hopeless entanglement, some... spell no one can see or feel or make any sense of.

Because he can only charm me.  And I’m charmed hard.

Funny how any old thing can become a symbol.  

One well-placed analogy can turn a plum into a representation of how a relationship works.  A single random choice turns a string of plastic beads into a stand-in engagement ring.  “Marmalade” becomes the keyword for “I wish you were here”.

With associations like that running around the weirdest things can turn dark, triggers we never see.  A well-loved song is synonymous with death.  A name you can no longer stand to hear.  Plaid shirts suddenly all look bloodstained.

Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but so is morbidity.

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Yeah all of the analogy examples in the second paragraph are from my real life.

Two of the ones from the third are from an alternate reality of my real life.  The name one is from my real life, although it's gotten better.

Symbolism features heavily in my world.

Sometimes I look at her, and I’m jealous.  Because she doesn’t remember.  

All that time I was wrapping my arms around myself I thought I was trying to hold her.  Maybe I was trying to hold onto what we were.

I’m jealous of her because she’ll never be haunted by what happened to her.  What happened to all of us.  She can’t remember it.

But she’ll never remember him, either.  As many stories as I tell her, they’ll still only be stories to her.

Such an important part of our lives, and she’ll have no memory of him at all.