Yes, love died, about a year ago. No body knows exactly when, but it was sometimes early September or late August. Can you imagine something as big as love dying and no one noticing? Well, people did notice, in a way or another, but rather they couldn't possibly imagine that love , could in fact, die! For some, it changed into other feelings; feelings that could have usually be confused with love - lust, possessiveness , compassion, familiarity, kindness, fear of loneliness or even instinctive protectiveness.
But there are a few people who are still lost at see with the void that death of love left behind. They struggle to find meaning. They...
Ah well,..
Here are some stories from these people:
Scene 4
Scene 5
Singapore
Friday, September 6th, 2013
It was hot. But when isn't it hot in this country, Erica was thinking. She hates it in this country, especially when David is late , it's almost midnight. She hates it especially today, their 5th anniversary, 2nd in this damn country. She wanted to celebrate, to go out for a nice dinner, drinks, and make love. But David comes home drunk. Work has been really getting to him and drinking has been his solution. He mumbles something incomprehensible when she says he promised to cut down on drinking, then his voice gets higher but she was in no mood to argue. She turned away, walked to the bedroom, and while she was getting into her PJs, he came to the room. He said something, she said no. She tried to move away, he grabbed her hand. And as sad as it sounds, on their fifth anniversary, he forced himself onto her. She won't dare say it's rape, as a good wife never does. But he physically hurt her and emotionally destroyed her. That night, to Erica, love died.
A few weeks later, she wakes up dizzy, annoyed and out of breath. Her period is late and she throws up at work. It can't be, it shouldn't be. She cries, goes to the pharmacy, and buys the test. And sadly, it's true. But love died that night.
There's a time of indecision between the bedroom and the door
And there's a part of you that knows that you can't take it anymore
There's a promise of a future in the creaking of the floor
And you're torn if you should leave him with a number
From "Never Coming Home" by Sting
Listen to it here
Scene 2
Washington D.C
Saturday, August 31st, 2013
Our protagonists in this scene are a high profile married couple in the prime of their political careers. They would like to stay anonymous for the purpose of this story, so we will simply refer to them as He and She.
They met 21 years ago, when they were both interning for a presidential election, that president didn't win, but they got married a year after. They've been through thick and thin together, love conquers all, you see. But as each of them looks back, those 21 years seem like another century.
He was on his way back from New York and all he could think of on the plane was the other woman. It wasn't like he was cheating or anything; they just chatted and went out for dinner or drinks a couple of times. Mental stimulation, he thought, that's what the new woman was; a friend who understands him in a way no one else does. Not even his wife for 21 years. He didn't want to leave New York this time, but it feels better knowing that he'll be back for that workshop in two weeks.
The chauffeur drove him home, She had to finish a meeting then run a couple of errands. He opened the house door, gave her a kiss on the cheek while She was still the phone. Although nothing He said or did was different, She knew something was wrong; a wife always knows. They sit for dinner and look into each other's eyes. So much has changed from where they first started. Neither of them found what they were looking for. At that very moment, loved died for He and She.
Well you can say what you want
But it won't change my mind
I feel the same... about you
And you can give me your reasons
But it won't change my feelings
I feel the same... about you
Say What You Want by Texas.
Listen to it here
Two weeks later, She picked him up from the airport after the New York trip. She could smell a different cologne. They moved into two separate rooms in the same house, for the kids.
Scene 1
Tuesday, August 27th, 2013
Cairo, Egypt
Hana threw in some pencils, her doodling notebook and some cash into her backpack. She stood in front of the mirror close to the apartment door, fixed her hair carefully; the fringe has to cover exactly two thirds of her left eye, and she fixed a tiny braid besides her right ear. Yes! Perfect. She puts on the strawberry vanilla lip balm that she saves for special occasions. One last glance at the mirror And she's out, shouting that she's leaving and will be back by 9.
As she walks to the sports club where all the kids her age hang out, she can't help but think of him. Not the most popular kid in school, Emad, if you see him is just another ordinary guy, but she fell in love with his sketches. They were once in detention together and he started drawing her on a piece of paper and 30 minutes later, she looks at a portrait of herself which looks gorgeous. Actually, it looked much better than the image she has of herself and that was exactly what she told him. And they started talking. From there, she realized how different he was from everyone else in school; he was more , well, grown up. And she was so infatuated that she tried to mimic his taste in music, film, and even started doodling.
Tonight is going to be so special. She feels it. It was a class outing and he said he'll come. It's the first time that they actually meet outside school, practically a date (or at least date-enough given her dad's crazy rules, so old school!). And she was going to show him the first portrait she has done of him. She drew it off a picture on her mobile (which she sneaked in and out of school safely, thank God!) and has been working on it all day, for 16 days ( rather when she wasn't caught in class or her mum wasn't around, but that's not the point, the point is.. she worked hard, ok?)
She arrives a little later than everyone. He's already there. She sits nearby, orders a burger and a milkshake , chats a bit with her friends, keeps trying to catch Emad's eyes but never manages to get eye content. (Is he being weird today or what?) Then she finally builds enough courage to tell him to step outside for a minute as she has something to show him. He tries to pretend he cant' hear her but she insists. She, full of pride, shows him the portrait which he starts to admire at first but then goes all meticulous and pinpoints all the errors with her art. As she tries to explain that she is still learning and she was doing this for 16 whole days (hoping for some appreciation). He turns and goes back tot he table to hang out with friends. She holds her breath, counts to 29 (she wanted to count to 30 but her BFF comes out to call her in), and goes back in. She did not cry. But she couldn't smile all night either.
While sitting in bed wondering what the hell went wrong, she gets a text message from him. He's sorry for being a jerk earlier, but he would really love their friendship to stay secret. She must understand that with her being his friend, it's unlikely that he will ever be part of the popular group. But he really appreciates their friendship. She replied in text that he can go fuck himself. It was the first time ever that she actually wrote down these words, ever! But once she did, she felt better and slept like a baby.
He was her first crush and on Tuesday 27th September 2013 at 9:56 pm precisely, love died for Hana forever. The following month, doodling became her main time occupation, she took art classes, and participated in school competitions. She is now determined to be the best visual artist ever, because this Emad kid won't break her down.
Just cry baby cry
Cause every tear that flows falls into the ocean
And rises to the sky
And then the rain will come
Right before the sun shines...
From "Cry Baby Cry" by Santana feat Sean Paul and Joss Stone
Listen to it here.
Scene 3
Monday, September 2nd, 2013
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Santiago hates to hear us complain about anything. He had always been a cheerful, life-loving old man, up until September 2nd , 2013, that is. At 76, it was a year after he had lost his wife, Martina, who he considered, even for months after her death, his soulmate. Martina, at 78, died peacefully in her bed on morning. At first, he got very depressed, but with his grand kids' help, things eventually got better. They devised this plan to make her memory last. So for weeks, they kept on writing her biography, they sorted her pictures chronologically in albums, ... etc. But that required going through her old boxes, some of which Santiago has never seen before. You see, living in the same house for over 50 years, the house tends to build up lots of boxes full of mysteries.
Going through one of these boxes, on Thursday 29, he found some letters and photos of Martina with some Juan. He spent the entire Thursday in disbelief, stayed in bed all day and refused to continue going through the boxes. Friday, was frustration day, he went through the boxes, reading, crying and tearing apart whichever letters or photos he could get her hands on. Saturday, was crazy, he was torn between burning every single memory he has of her and between finding out who this Juan is and going to punch his face. By nighttime, he had already decided on the later. They had corresponded through their work address, and he had to wait until Monday to figure out where Juan is now.
He spent the whole of Sunday in bed. Monday early morning, he went to that office, and luckily one of the older ladies identified Juan and told Santiago his address. He went there and found out the Juan died 6 years earlier. He lived aline with a roommate, Ira, who knew that he was in a long term relationship with a married woman. They met every Sunday for years. They took baking classes together.
At that exact moment, for Santiago, love died. He felt betrayed, hurt, humiliated. She said she baked the delicious loaves of bread at church as part of a charity. He ate them with love and appreciation. She lied all these year, she lied.
He had two options, wait for his death, hating the illusion of life he thought he had. Or start a new one for no-one-knows how long. He chose to live a new life.
Been chasin' rainbows all along
And you have crused me
When there's no one left to blame
And I have loved you just the same
And you have broken every single fucking rule.
And I have loved you like a fool
From "Like a Fool" by Keira Knightly - OST Begin Again
Listen to it here
Scene 6
In a parallel universe where time and space are relative
Cupid, is thousand years, has been shooting everyone with arrows of love. A naked chubby boy with wings in Mount Olympus, is how we all think of him, isn't it? We'll he's had it. He's seen gods worshiped, but he, though a god himself, is never worshiped, but rather always remembered as the naked chubby boy.
But that's the end of it. He's been doing this for thousands of years without a single thank you. Whenever someone falls in love (because of his hard work and careful planning), they would thank other gods. And when someone would breakup (regardless how hard he tries to prevent it), they would blame and sometimes even curse love, like it's his own fault. Always the naughty naked chubby boy who's foolishly shooting arrows.
Workin' 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by, it's all takin' and no givin'
They just use your mind and they never give you credit
It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it
9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that I would deserve a fair promotion
Want to move ahead but the boss won't seem to let me
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me!
From "9 to 5" by Dolly Patron
Listen to it here.
He realised it's time for him to retire, to take a break. One of the beach towns of Mt Olympus, sandy beach, palm trees, lots of wine, ... you know. He'll also ask Venus, his mum in case you don't know, to help him manifest himself into some sort of youthful appearance ( naked chubby boy , my ass! he'd think). He'd like to fall in love, get married, have kids.. ha ha ha.. he is love. He'll skip that. He'll skip marriage too; he knows how it ruins things, he's been seeing it happen over and over for thousands of years. In all honestly, he just wants to get laid , really. Mermaids, muses and nymphs, especially ocean nymphs, hot stuff...
He wrote a resignation letter and sent it to Zeus, the kind of gods, but somehow bureaucracy played a role. Cupid, or Eros, as he likes to be called, had give them, according to the supreme rule of things 30 days notice to find and train a replacement but Zeus didn't get his letter until 15 days after that notice period. By then, Cupi.., I mean Eros, had already left the job, and is probably getting jiggy with it with some blonde mermaid or so.
Problem is, these positions are hard to fill, especially with the calibre now way worse than it was even a thousand years ago. No one has the patience for careful planning. Zeus is running a number of interviews now, for a group of interns, hoping that one of the new kids will be able to grow into the position. It doesn't look very promising though. The position, remains unoccupied and love has disappeared meanwhile.
Footnotes
On Monday, September 9th, 2013, the author who was on a business trip to Dubai, realized that she has been chasing rainbows for a while. Instead of crying her eyes out like she wished she could, she went on running on a treadmill in her hotel's gym for a little over an hour. After a long hot shower, a lot of ice cream and watching the movie Inception for the 3rd time, she made a pact with cupid; she understands that love will not happen again but she would like to keep the memories of previous "love" intact. She asked cupid not to ruin the memories. It took a while for cupid to reply, being busy on the beach with the blonde mermaid and all, hardly getting time to check his email. Instead of replying by email, he sent the author a DHL package, around 6 months later, a number of broken arrows and one small arrow intact. The author to this day, still holds on to her intact arrow.
But there are a few people who are still lost at see with the void that death of love left behind. They struggle to find meaning. They...
Ah well,..
Here are some stories from these people:
Scene 4
Greenwich
Wednesday, September 4th, 2014
It wasn't very rainy that day, unlike the rest of the week, so Tom thought that today has to be the day. He stopped at Marks and Spenser's on the way to class to pick up some flowers and concealed them cleverly. The day was going marvellously, the lecturer was even covering his Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnets. It was all what he needed for a sign.
He walked out of the room recalling the lines that he would say to Shana. His heart was racing. He scanned the area looking for her.
It was precisely 15:18 when he caught the first glimpse of her; he was keeping track because he wanted to always remember their anniversary. She was a few yards away from him but she couldn't see him. Her fingers combed her long black hair back to uncover a beautiful smile; the smile that says "hey there lover".
15:19, he was walking towards that smile.
15:20 they made eye-contact and he smiled and waved one hand, as he checked the flowers with the other hand.
15:21 she smiled back, but with half that smile he saw earlier, or maybe even quarter a smile, if there is such a think
15:22:01 he got on one knee, right in front of her and brought the floors forward to her
15:22:01 she moves her head a little to the left
15:22:07 he realizes she's not looking, he looks towards where her eyes are
15:22:24 he sees an arm wrapped around her waist and a few fingers through her hair
15:22:39 he sees the bloke; who doesnt see him and doesnt care
15:22:55 Shana and her bloke move left
15:23 he feels like a complete idiot, on one knee, on the floor, in the middle of the university hallway, with flowers, and no one to give them to.
15:27 he wakes up from a 4 minute shock
15:28 he walks away, throws the flowers in a bin
It was sometime between 15:23 and 15:27 when, to Tom, love died. He just can't tell when exactly.
The next day, he dropped his poetry course and switched his major to Maritime Sciences. His poetry books all looked empty, there were no letters in them, no sentences, no life. Maritime lets you travel. That would do. The only poem that still had a bit of life in it was The Saddest Poem by Pablo Neruda
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
Wednesday, September 4th, 2014
It wasn't very rainy that day, unlike the rest of the week, so Tom thought that today has to be the day. He stopped at Marks and Spenser's on the way to class to pick up some flowers and concealed them cleverly. The day was going marvellously, the lecturer was even covering his Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnets. It was all what he needed for a sign.
He walked out of the room recalling the lines that he would say to Shana. His heart was racing. He scanned the area looking for her.
It was precisely 15:18 when he caught the first glimpse of her; he was keeping track because he wanted to always remember their anniversary. She was a few yards away from him but she couldn't see him. Her fingers combed her long black hair back to uncover a beautiful smile; the smile that says "hey there lover".
15:19, he was walking towards that smile.
15:20 they made eye-contact and he smiled and waved one hand, as he checked the flowers with the other hand.
15:21 she smiled back, but with half that smile he saw earlier, or maybe even quarter a smile, if there is such a think
15:22:01 he got on one knee, right in front of her and brought the floors forward to her
15:22:01 she moves her head a little to the left
15:22:07 he realizes she's not looking, he looks towards where her eyes are
15:22:24 he sees an arm wrapped around her waist and a few fingers through her hair
15:22:39 he sees the bloke; who doesnt see him and doesnt care
15:22:55 Shana and her bloke move left
15:23 he feels like a complete idiot, on one knee, on the floor, in the middle of the university hallway, with flowers, and no one to give them to.
15:27 he wakes up from a 4 minute shock
15:28 he walks away, throws the flowers in a bin
It was sometime between 15:23 and 15:27 when, to Tom, love died. He just can't tell when exactly.
The next day, he dropped his poetry course and switched his major to Maritime Sciences. His poetry books all looked empty, there were no letters in them, no sentences, no life. Maritime lets you travel. That would do. The only poem that still had a bit of life in it was The Saddest Poem by Pablo Neruda
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
Singapore
Friday, September 6th, 2013
It was hot. But when isn't it hot in this country, Erica was thinking. She hates it in this country, especially when David is late , it's almost midnight. She hates it especially today, their 5th anniversary, 2nd in this damn country. She wanted to celebrate, to go out for a nice dinner, drinks, and make love. But David comes home drunk. Work has been really getting to him and drinking has been his solution. He mumbles something incomprehensible when she says he promised to cut down on drinking, then his voice gets higher but she was in no mood to argue. She turned away, walked to the bedroom, and while she was getting into her PJs, he came to the room. He said something, she said no. She tried to move away, he grabbed her hand. And as sad as it sounds, on their fifth anniversary, he forced himself onto her. She won't dare say it's rape, as a good wife never does. But he physically hurt her and emotionally destroyed her. That night, to Erica, love died.
A few weeks later, she wakes up dizzy, annoyed and out of breath. Her period is late and she throws up at work. It can't be, it shouldn't be. She cries, goes to the pharmacy, and buys the test. And sadly, it's true. But love died that night.
There's a time of indecision between the bedroom and the door
And there's a part of you that knows that you can't take it anymore
There's a promise of a future in the creaking of the floor
And you're torn if you should leave him with a number
From "Never Coming Home" by Sting
Listen to it here
Scene 2
Washington D.C
Saturday, August 31st, 2013
Our protagonists in this scene are a high profile married couple in the prime of their political careers. They would like to stay anonymous for the purpose of this story, so we will simply refer to them as He and She.
They met 21 years ago, when they were both interning for a presidential election, that president didn't win, but they got married a year after. They've been through thick and thin together, love conquers all, you see. But as each of them looks back, those 21 years seem like another century.
He was on his way back from New York and all he could think of on the plane was the other woman. It wasn't like he was cheating or anything; they just chatted and went out for dinner or drinks a couple of times. Mental stimulation, he thought, that's what the new woman was; a friend who understands him in a way no one else does. Not even his wife for 21 years. He didn't want to leave New York this time, but it feels better knowing that he'll be back for that workshop in two weeks.
The chauffeur drove him home, She had to finish a meeting then run a couple of errands. He opened the house door, gave her a kiss on the cheek while She was still the phone. Although nothing He said or did was different, She knew something was wrong; a wife always knows. They sit for dinner and look into each other's eyes. So much has changed from where they first started. Neither of them found what they were looking for. At that very moment, loved died for He and She.
Well you can say what you want
But it won't change my mind
I feel the same... about you
And you can give me your reasons
But it won't change my feelings
I feel the same... about you
Say What You Want by Texas.
Listen to it here
Two weeks later, She picked him up from the airport after the New York trip. She could smell a different cologne. They moved into two separate rooms in the same house, for the kids.
Scene 1
Tuesday, August 27th, 2013
Cairo, Egypt
Hana threw in some pencils, her doodling notebook and some cash into her backpack. She stood in front of the mirror close to the apartment door, fixed her hair carefully; the fringe has to cover exactly two thirds of her left eye, and she fixed a tiny braid besides her right ear. Yes! Perfect. She puts on the strawberry vanilla lip balm that she saves for special occasions. One last glance at the mirror And she's out, shouting that she's leaving and will be back by 9.
As she walks to the sports club where all the kids her age hang out, she can't help but think of him. Not the most popular kid in school, Emad, if you see him is just another ordinary guy, but she fell in love with his sketches. They were once in detention together and he started drawing her on a piece of paper and 30 minutes later, she looks at a portrait of herself which looks gorgeous. Actually, it looked much better than the image she has of herself and that was exactly what she told him. And they started talking. From there, she realized how different he was from everyone else in school; he was more , well, grown up. And she was so infatuated that she tried to mimic his taste in music, film, and even started doodling.
Tonight is going to be so special. She feels it. It was a class outing and he said he'll come. It's the first time that they actually meet outside school, practically a date (or at least date-enough given her dad's crazy rules, so old school!). And she was going to show him the first portrait she has done of him. She drew it off a picture on her mobile (which she sneaked in and out of school safely, thank God!) and has been working on it all day, for 16 days ( rather when she wasn't caught in class or her mum wasn't around, but that's not the point, the point is.. she worked hard, ok?)
She arrives a little later than everyone. He's already there. She sits nearby, orders a burger and a milkshake , chats a bit with her friends, keeps trying to catch Emad's eyes but never manages to get eye content. (Is he being weird today or what?) Then she finally builds enough courage to tell him to step outside for a minute as she has something to show him. He tries to pretend he cant' hear her but she insists. She, full of pride, shows him the portrait which he starts to admire at first but then goes all meticulous and pinpoints all the errors with her art. As she tries to explain that she is still learning and she was doing this for 16 whole days (hoping for some appreciation). He turns and goes back tot he table to hang out with friends. She holds her breath, counts to 29 (she wanted to count to 30 but her BFF comes out to call her in), and goes back in. She did not cry. But she couldn't smile all night either.
While sitting in bed wondering what the hell went wrong, she gets a text message from him. He's sorry for being a jerk earlier, but he would really love their friendship to stay secret. She must understand that with her being his friend, it's unlikely that he will ever be part of the popular group. But he really appreciates their friendship. She replied in text that he can go fuck himself. It was the first time ever that she actually wrote down these words, ever! But once she did, she felt better and slept like a baby.
He was her first crush and on Tuesday 27th September 2013 at 9:56 pm precisely, love died for Hana forever. The following month, doodling became her main time occupation, she took art classes, and participated in school competitions. She is now determined to be the best visual artist ever, because this Emad kid won't break her down.
Just cry baby cry
Cause every tear that flows falls into the ocean
And rises to the sky
And then the rain will come
Right before the sun shines...
From "Cry Baby Cry" by Santana feat Sean Paul and Joss Stone
Listen to it here.
Scene 3
Monday, September 2nd, 2013
Buenos Aires, Argentina
Santiago hates to hear us complain about anything. He had always been a cheerful, life-loving old man, up until September 2nd , 2013, that is. At 76, it was a year after he had lost his wife, Martina, who he considered, even for months after her death, his soulmate. Martina, at 78, died peacefully in her bed on morning. At first, he got very depressed, but with his grand kids' help, things eventually got better. They devised this plan to make her memory last. So for weeks, they kept on writing her biography, they sorted her pictures chronologically in albums, ... etc. But that required going through her old boxes, some of which Santiago has never seen before. You see, living in the same house for over 50 years, the house tends to build up lots of boxes full of mysteries.
Going through one of these boxes, on Thursday 29, he found some letters and photos of Martina with some Juan. He spent the entire Thursday in disbelief, stayed in bed all day and refused to continue going through the boxes. Friday, was frustration day, he went through the boxes, reading, crying and tearing apart whichever letters or photos he could get her hands on. Saturday, was crazy, he was torn between burning every single memory he has of her and between finding out who this Juan is and going to punch his face. By nighttime, he had already decided on the later. They had corresponded through their work address, and he had to wait until Monday to figure out where Juan is now.
He spent the whole of Sunday in bed. Monday early morning, he went to that office, and luckily one of the older ladies identified Juan and told Santiago his address. He went there and found out the Juan died 6 years earlier. He lived aline with a roommate, Ira, who knew that he was in a long term relationship with a married woman. They met every Sunday for years. They took baking classes together.
At that exact moment, for Santiago, love died. He felt betrayed, hurt, humiliated. She said she baked the delicious loaves of bread at church as part of a charity. He ate them with love and appreciation. She lied all these year, she lied.
He had two options, wait for his death, hating the illusion of life he thought he had. Or start a new one for no-one-knows how long. He chose to live a new life.
Been chasin' rainbows all along
And you have crused me
When there's no one left to blame
And I have loved you just the same
And you have broken every single fucking rule.
And I have loved you like a fool
From "Like a Fool" by Keira Knightly - OST Begin Again
Listen to it here
Scene 6
In a parallel universe where time and space are relative
Cupid, is thousand years, has been shooting everyone with arrows of love. A naked chubby boy with wings in Mount Olympus, is how we all think of him, isn't it? We'll he's had it. He's seen gods worshiped, but he, though a god himself, is never worshiped, but rather always remembered as the naked chubby boy.
But that's the end of it. He's been doing this for thousands of years without a single thank you. Whenever someone falls in love (because of his hard work and careful planning), they would thank other gods. And when someone would breakup (regardless how hard he tries to prevent it), they would blame and sometimes even curse love, like it's his own fault. Always the naughty naked chubby boy who's foolishly shooting arrows.
Workin' 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by, it's all takin' and no givin'
They just use your mind and they never give you credit
It's enough to drive you crazy if you let it
9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that I would deserve a fair promotion
Want to move ahead but the boss won't seem to let me
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me!
From "9 to 5" by Dolly Patron
Listen to it here.
He realised it's time for him to retire, to take a break. One of the beach towns of Mt Olympus, sandy beach, palm trees, lots of wine, ... you know. He'll also ask Venus, his mum in case you don't know, to help him manifest himself into some sort of youthful appearance ( naked chubby boy , my ass! he'd think). He'd like to fall in love, get married, have kids.. ha ha ha.. he is love. He'll skip that. He'll skip marriage too; he knows how it ruins things, he's been seeing it happen over and over for thousands of years. In all honestly, he just wants to get laid , really. Mermaids, muses and nymphs, especially ocean nymphs, hot stuff...
He wrote a resignation letter and sent it to Zeus, the kind of gods, but somehow bureaucracy played a role. Cupid, or Eros, as he likes to be called, had give them, according to the supreme rule of things 30 days notice to find and train a replacement but Zeus didn't get his letter until 15 days after that notice period. By then, Cupi.., I mean Eros, had already left the job, and is probably getting jiggy with it with some blonde mermaid or so.
Problem is, these positions are hard to fill, especially with the calibre now way worse than it was even a thousand years ago. No one has the patience for careful planning. Zeus is running a number of interviews now, for a group of interns, hoping that one of the new kids will be able to grow into the position. It doesn't look very promising though. The position, remains unoccupied and love has disappeared meanwhile.
Footnotes
On Monday, September 9th, 2013, the author who was on a business trip to Dubai, realized that she has been chasing rainbows for a while. Instead of crying her eyes out like she wished she could, she went on running on a treadmill in her hotel's gym for a little over an hour. After a long hot shower, a lot of ice cream and watching the movie Inception for the 3rd time, she made a pact with cupid; she understands that love will not happen again but she would like to keep the memories of previous "love" intact. She asked cupid not to ruin the memories. It took a while for cupid to reply, being busy on the beach with the blonde mermaid and all, hardly getting time to check his email. Instead of replying by email, he sent the author a DHL package, around 6 months later, a number of broken arrows and one small arrow intact. The author to this day, still holds on to her intact arrow.
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