This little story was perfect. It was hands always locked and sweet smiles. It was flowers on Valentine’s Day and little acts of kindness when one of them was down, and the sky was masterful. Beautifully lit with pastel shades of pink, orange, and red. The colors streaked across the sky as the two figures—obviously lovers—ran through the vast valley of a perfect prairie.

Everything was right, bright, and seemingly a welcome to them. Anywhere they went, greatness followed. Sometimes the environment was not clear. Mostly, everything else around them was blurred, save for the girls one, true love. His eyes were more magnificent than a thousand waterfalls, and his hair was more captivating than a night sky, with skin that shined as purely as stars. Todays memory was even more remarkable. It was absolutely the definition of the word “perfection,” and vividly wonderful. She could see everything, from the broad expanse above, all the way down to the little butterfly’s and swaying grass.

The best thing was that she could play whatever moment she wanted, on repeat. If ever she were to be interrupted, she could press “replay,” and start off where they left, or live through it all over again. Nothing was wrong with anything, because in this world, “imperfections” did not exist in this landscape’s vocabulary. Instead, the vocabulary was full of millions and millions of pages of different meanings to the words “love,” “treasure,” and “forever.” It was full of hopes and dreams come true, soaring wishes that never let down.

And the best part was that it was just the two of them. It was them, and the adoring words he spoke to her, while her deep, brown eyes gifted him her full attention. His hand would brush back strands of her hair, and his lips would press against hers so gently—a whisper of the future they would soon possess.

“Do you see this, Mera?” The calm hum of his voice, would urge her to peer at the image enveloping them. Then she was gazing back at him in the same intense way he was her. “This is only a _fraction_ of my heart for you.”

If it was nothing but a fraction, then she was convinced she could live in it forever. There was a part of her that considered if she could even bare the _full_ thing, but then she pushed the thought away, because doubt was never a part of them to begin with.

“Why is that, Leo?” It was an honest question. Why not his whole heart, why only a portion?

Then, before he could have any chance of answering, the world would disappear, and Mera would return to reality. Of course, it was only then that she understood. She could never have his whole heart, because their love was but a longing of her broken soul. It was the desperate cry she never let anyone see.

A fantasy, was all it was. That was fine with her, though, as long as she would be able to love for just a few wishfully blissed moments.