We are atoms, the sum of the whole. Though you my darling prefer to forget this, regarding yourself as static, a fixed point on an axis. And me? Well, I’m an advocate for quantum superposition. I am spinning one way and the other at the same time. Clever, eh?
And what of our child? She’s the unexpected consequence of what happens when matter like us collide.
To be fair, the probability of you and I lasting forever wasn’t high. Like all diligent students, we repeated the experiment to capture our first glow of love. And yes, sometimes lady luck sprinkled golden dust on us so our hearts and minds burned in unison. But mostly our love sizzled like a sparkler on bonfire night, before politely extinguishing itself, and allowing its remains to be trampled into the mud.
Then there is her, a particle of electrons and a wave of light. She is our miracle, though I guess now you think of her as our mistake. She comes from a time when even though our star was waning, the intimacy between us remained. Her existence is living proof that it is possible to bounce against a cold-hearted wall and suddenly be on the other side of it without ever having to travel through it. Despite the aftermath, I am grateful to you for our precious gift.
Do you know she asked me to write to you? She’s worried about you and your stubbornness not to bend. I would offer you my hand in friendship but the probability of you accepting is minute. However, it costs me nothing to ask. We veterans of life know that with one roll of the dice all that is certain can change, and so I hope that maybe one day, even you might experience the joys of quantum superposition.
Bibi Hamblin is a Londoner, who loves to tinker around with words, watercolours and wool. Her work has appeared in Ellipsis Zine, Blue Harvest Circle, Spelk, Sick Lit Magazine, Fable Online, and Zeroflash. She tweets here and blogs here.