History always repeats itself, in some form or another.
She looked up from the opening lines of a history textbook and sighed. It had been forever. Since a million light years ago.
But she couldn't stop thinking about the past. Everything she read, everything she saw, everything she touched…
She remembered.
Even the bland history textbook held some inexplicable deep secret to human psychology.
Ridiculous.
The door clicked. Opened.
"Hey Rinoa."
She turned suddenly, her hazy mind dawning upon a sudden hope. He was there, he is there, he was going to be there for her –
"Squall."
No.
No.
No.
No.
It was all wrong, so wrong…
History never repeats itself.
He was never coming back – he couldn't – he had literally thrown her away –
The other embraced her.
She went back to reading.