present perfect: the last time she fell in love

For in curious circumstances, the past catches up with the present to show us how much we have changed, how much we have grown.

With my eyes closed, I see.

There is a girl standing in front of a mirror. A pretty girl clad in a barely there showgirl outfit - form-fitting corset, fish net stockings, feather kits and all that. Layered tresses and loose curls hung down her back, black as a sinner's heart, resplendent against the soft incandescence. Lips glossed red. One fine nose. Hazel eyes gazing, carefully studying the reflection. She was on the outside, looking into the pool of memories where flashes of past-future and future-past interspersed.

There was a show and she was the star, like everyone else who had come up on stage would like to believe, who was dancing along to the soundless beat.

I see you.

A familiar, faceless fellow donning an elegant suit and a top hat among a plentiful audience.

She can tell that he was attractive. He was attracted.

A shuffle and they were in the dressing room, striking up a tryst. Images of rapture – his hands all over; her body, against the dresser. Restless. Very reckless.

Another shuffle, and there was a masquerade. A white ball. Heaven-like. Festive dancing and general merriment. Feet moving. Eyes, hidden behind masks, inviting.

The last lays out a balcony from which the girl, all dressed up to be the prettiest she'll ever be, looks out to an empty street. Cheeks ashen. Tears slowly falling. The guests were murmuring. Heartbreak impending. The groom was nowhere to be seen.

Before everything could sink in, she was pulled back out to being a picture of a girl standing in front of a mirror. A very pretty girl fading slowly as light seeps through my slightly-opened, slightly-watered eyes.

Indeed, a curious circumstance was laid out before me. An echo that made me realize how prone we are, how vulnerable we can be to commit the same mistakes we did in a lifetime deemed long-forgotten, and further compound the error by ignoring life’s little lessons and go through it like a sick cycle.

I have seen what became of you and me. Now my eyes are open.