It was under a cold blue sky she had told him she too thought she had never had her heart broken. He now understood that wasn’t exactly true. It was not that she hadn’t shared her heart with anyone, protecting it from hurt, but that she had given it to everyone and taken the best from each. Taken the sweet, taken the hurt.
The best of the love, the best of the pain. Her heart a constant palimpsest showcasing bits and pieces of everything that had reach it. A mixture of traces each older than the next one. An incomprehensible renku—unreadable—yet as beautiful as her sunshine smile in the mornings. As lovely as her heartfelt tear in the night.
It wasn't that she hadn't had her heart broken. It was that every new stitch had made it stronger.
This is my freewrite for today's prompt: palimpsest. An interesting word. At first I thought there was no way I could just fit that into a story, but in the end it doesn't sound too forced where it fell. As usual, this things always turn out much more fun than I think they will be before I start with them.
