"I feared catastrophe," he explains, "and I guess by fearing it, I brought it about anyway."
"Self-fulfilling prophecy," she says, nodding.
He muses that she was his cataclyst. And what a beautiful destruction it was.
For the next several hours, he spills everything. It hurts, and it brings discomfort, and it's cathartic. And he concludes his monologue with the final explosion: "I'm in love with you, Ahn Na."
She smiles. It's small, but it's stars colliding. "I'm in love with you too."
"Does that mean we can try again?"
Her small hands cover his, and he's so much warmer than she is. But he does not fear cruel consumption. Rather, he relishes in the feeling of her skin on his.
And when she says, "Yes," it's like the Big Bang: an explosion, a demise, and then the creation of the solar system. Perfect and chaotic.
The birth of a star.
The End.
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