Flash fiction: “Love”

“Why would I do that?” I ask her. “Why would I agree to do something which is that far away from my self-interest?”

She’s standing in front of me. Looking deep into my eyes, trying, if you will, to convince me with those beautiful eyes of hers.

I sigh, loudly, loud enough for her to hear, and she knows she’s got me. Don’t ask me how I know she knows it, I just know.

I sit down in my chair as she sits down in the chair opposite me. She’s going through her plan. I want nothing to do with it. She knew that, but she also knew that I would do anything for her.

She knew I was in love with her, that’s why she was here, asking me, and not anyone else who might be better suited for the job. She’s cruel that way.

She’s done talking. We both just sit there, quiet. I guess she wants me to say something. I have nothing to say.

The whole thing was a bad idea. It was never going to work. Why did I agree to this? I wish for a second that I had never met her, that I had never gone to the bar that night. I wished I had never fallen for her.

She wants to do it next week. Far too soon if you ask me.

This is never going to work.

I don’t raise my concern. I don’t want to dampen her spirit.

She starts talking again.

I sit there and listen as she goes on and on about all the things they are going to do together once we’ve got him back.

My heart breaks with every word. Why would I help her? Why do I love someone who will never love me back?

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