The Blue Fog Disperses

Not all love has an ending, some love is just enough to be remembered. When I was 12 years old, my father died. Since then, whenever I see a middle-aged man, I will think of him. When I was 23, I met him at the gym. 45 Years old, corporate executive, wife and daughter. A winner in life in the eyes of others, but his eyes are like a dry well. I know it shouldn't be. I know he has a family. But I couldn't control it - because the way he looked at me was very much like my father looking at my mother. He said, "This is dangerous." I said, "I know. But I can't help it." He divorced me and gave up his career. I thought we could finally be together. Until I met his daughter, the 12-year-old girl, who looked at me with the same eyes as before. At that moment, I saw myself. The person I have hated for half my life turned out to be myself. Some love is like blue mist. It's gone, it's gone. But you know – it's been there.