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Steve was heartbroken the day Husky died but was always afraid to admit it because he believed heartbreaks had become cliché. There were too many poets writing about it, too many eyes crying over it, too many stories ending because of it. He believed heartbreaks had become ‘too much’ and he was born a minimalist.
He liked his walls pitch black and preferred turning on the lights twenty-two times because that’s when it was the brightest. His main room had only a bed and a flower pot but no windows. So obviously, the flowers kept dying and he bought new ones every time. At any given time, you’d only see things that he needed in his room. At nine in the morning, just a laptop – placed specifically on his ‘lap’ to serve its name’s purpose. Three hours later, a cup of coffee and a single paperback. At bedtime, a blanket, music player, and cassettes of old music. The only constants in his room were the bed, the flowers, and Steve himself.
Steve was used to constants because they had reason and purpose and logic. So when a male Husky walked into his life for no reason at all, he was baffled. The dog was a year old maybe and lived outside Steve’s house but one day, he just decided to introduce himself. The introduction had a wagging tail and Steve’s giggles. With time, they got used to each other and Steve gave the puppy a name – Husky. With time, Steve and Husky didn’t need a reason to stay together. The minimalist had found his favorite ‘too much’.
The thing with love is that it cannot stay forever. It comes in shades of black and white, soft to touch and if you’re lucky, it licks your face. But like any dog, love has trouble learning how to stay. When Husky died, Steve came to face to face with the famous cliché and he was afraid to accept it. Eventually, he did embrace the cliché because he worked on logic and experience taught him that constants die – be it flowers, moments or pain.