It was almost like she was making up for lost time (she loved him so much)
He'd had years and years and years to reconcile with this feeling
(to understand, to revel, to despair)
and she couldn't shake the sensation that she was running against some kind of divine clock.
It's not allowed.
It's alright, if you love just a little bit.
But too much and you're a gonner. Doomed.
All great romances end in tragedy
(not that she was some storybook heroine. but she loved him so much it ached sometimes; that place in her throat almost constantly swelled with tears.)
Practically star-crossed, she thought and shivered.
Maybe once she didn't believe in fate so much,
But now she had James.
And, sometimes, she could hear ticking.
He thought it was endearing, when she'd thrown away the clock in their bedroom on All Hallow's Eve, 1980
(we've all the time in the world together, love, he'd whispered, as the baby slept)
but she could still hear it.
The next All Hallow's, when she'd met him on the other side and found that she couldn't cry
(although the ache remained)
he whispered it again, but somehow, it didn't hold the same promise it once had.
The ticking was finally gone, but it felt so terrible to be right.