dies a death, dies another
it's immortality my darlings.
.
.
She saw her today.
Heart pounding (soul scorched), she ran toward her. She could not believe it. But there she was: all glistening blond curls and the perpetual smile of a snake etched on her face. Leaning against the glass window of The Brew, she was reading a magazine.
Two years past too late and counting (it's an odd way of tracking time), she looked fresh as day, still brighter than the sun. Hadn't abandoned her odd habit of looking at somebody under her perfect eyelashes (with every pore of her body the mystery lived on).
Alison, she wanted to call out her name.
Wanted her to look up, just once, and say—
Emily stopped.
She was mistaken. I was just… Firmly, she convinced herself that it had been a dream, a hallucination, a piercing reminder of the cruelty of longevity. Because Alison (we'll be friends forever) was dead. And this was someone else.
She knew the rules of living, the quivering, irreproachable absolution of death.
Still, Emily wished—her best friend (lover) was here, as was expected. In Rosewood, amidst the vehicles waging war with the pedestrians, she looked calm and secretive as ever.
Alison DiLaurentis lived with an intensity and passion hardly to be surpassed (died a death, died another).
Emily was alive.
And she was still dead.
.
.
end
A/N: Emily thinks she sees Alison, but knows it's not possible since the latter is seemingly dead (takes place during Season 3/4 when the question was if Alison is alive).