Perfect love stories live on borrowed endings. Readers re-borrow these and hope to make them their own. And time stops when you are in love. A moment becomes a lifetime. He could write about the moment; how would he write of a lifetime? On paper white as milk, he scribbled a story. Like the moon; only, rectangular. Should I cut corners, the storyteller wondered? The ink would be the stain on the moon. The stain that has given birth to many a description of beauty.
My staining ink has more value than the pure white of the paper; the author smiled as he started writing his story.