“Do we?” The boy asked.
“Yeah. We fall for the wrong ones. Always.” The old man said.
“Is it in our hands?”
“No.” The old man smiled. “Love doesn’t happen like that. ”
“I don’t understand. ” The boy said.
“Oh you will. Son. ” The old man chuckled.
“You will like some. You will lust for some. You will love that ONE.”
“Really? That’s … That’s sad.”
The boy pulled a face.
“Life’s nothing but those pockets of happiness in the seemingly endless expanse of sorrow and hardships. ”
” Damn… That’s deep.”
“We meet many people. You will meet many people. While we make many bonds with many different people. Some of them come close. Very close.”
“Why are they the wrong ones then?”
“Because they were never destined to be with us. Because the ones we love were never made for us. Because the ethereal is always ephemeral. Because they just go away. Far away. Giving us just memories. And their bittersweet taste STILL lingers, after years.”
He answered, without blinking.
“Just like that?”
“Just… like that.”
The old man sighed.
“We always give our stupid little hearts to the ones who were never ours. Who could NEVER be ours.”
Lost in his little reverie, a wry smile adorned his craggy, crooked profile. And he wondered at the atrocity called love and marvelled at the irony called life.