Disclaimer: I am not a middle aged man living in Texas, nor will I ever be. Everything PJO belongs to Rick Riordan!
A/N: This is my first story(?), so please try not to flame too hard. I guess this is sort of AU. Anyone who can guess what this is about gets virtual cookies (::) (::) (::) and can suggest a prompt for my next story! If you think you know (it's super obvious), say so in the reviews, or PM me, if you want.
Loved
She sees him. Across from her, exactly fifteen feet away. She loves everything about him. His walk, his laugh, his beautiful, beautiful eyes. He turns around. He smiles at her. Everything around her is stopped, declined, dimmed. He gets up. He walks towards her. She can't stop smiling. She opens her mouth, ready to talk to him. Ready to love him. It's a perfect fairy tale scene. But it is ruined. He walks past her. Into the awaiting arms of the one he truly loved. It isn't a happy ending. Because he doesn't love her like she loved him.