It had been fast, fleeting, a once-in-a-lifetime crossing of paths.
As was the norm between these two souls, so alike and yet so vastly different. When one talks of miracles, one tends to refer to things like the discovery of a medical breakthrough, or the moment you realise that hey, people love you. For them, it was the meeting of a gaze across the classroom. It was the nervous apology after bumping into one another in the hallway. It was the 'please' and the 'thank you' from one, as the other helped him pick up his books. It was the feeling that came from somewhere deep within, somewhere so ingrained in the soul that said 'I know this person. somehow, somewhere, we've met before'.
'Do I know you?'
'I'm not sure' Was the reply, 'From a dream, or a daydream thought. Or perhaps a nightmare' was the unspoken explanation, the words doomed never to pass beyond lips. If only they had been spoken perhaps the truth would have been realised. Perhaps there would have been some way to break themselves out of the endlessly cyclical movement of birth, followed by love, followed by death.
They watched each other, carefully taking in every feature, every fold in the fabric of their clothes, every stray hair that they could never quite get in the right spot.
And then, as if rehearsed, they walked away from one another, never to speak again.
One would move away, the other would forget.
Such was the destiny chosen for them. Inescapable and yet always unsatisfying, even though somewhere deep inside they must know there was no use trying to be together when whatever higher powers existed had decreed that the primary rule of every universe was that they would meet, and fall in love, and then inevitably be separated once more. Their souls were old, growing ever older with each return to Earth, but each time all they felt was a resonance in the fibres of their subconscious. How tasteless, to sacrifice those destined to a life of miserable repetitions simply to preserve balance.
Ill-fated lovers. That was the term for people the heavens had decided should be together, but as if playing some cruel joke, would never let them. Sometimes they allowed them little memories from their countless pasts together. A piece here, a glimpse of something happier there. A hand, reaching to brush away a tear that had escaped, unnoticed. A mouth, twisted in silent agony, mourning a happy ending that could have been, that should have been.
'My turn'.
'I roll a 4. my character gains +1 wisdom'.
'Now it's your turn'.
'I roll a 7. I get +2 might. I attack your character'.
'You can kill it if you want to, I give you permission'.
'...'
'Well? Go on then'.
'I roll a double. I attack your character again. My sword pierces the heart. You fall down to your knees'.
'...'
'I win'.