Twenty Years After

Will I ever forgive you?

No. Certainly not. I would not break any thread that ties us together. This long rough filament, that I can kiss, and taste the blood on, any time? No.

And my dearest wish is that I will turn a street corner, two thousand years from now -- in a far country, wearing different bodies -- and that you, recognizing me, will step briskly up, and give me a stinging slap across the face.