"Two figures stand before you. Choose one," says omniscient Fate.
I close my eyes, queenly figure remaining. The darkness is consoling for me; cool and calm to overwhelm my own seething flames, I suppose. One could argue that the blackness is daunted by the bright, though I could disagree. Eventually flames die out, choked by oxygen so long ago stolen away. I am merely dead coals and ash, swept into a whirlwind of disregard and dishonor. Blank.
And so I look upon the face of the opportunities long discarded first. A firm presence, one which is all too familiar, small but powerful. He is nothing but a faded ghost of remembrance, forced away by my own wrongdoings, but still enough to rekindle the black dust remaining in my chest. I feel a pang of longing somehow, though I know it is unjust. I am selfish.
Now I allow my hollowness to glance upon the second, even if only for a moment. For once, curiosity alights in my dulled being, and I allow it. I recognize this soul; darkened as much as my own, but still carrying an element of necessity. He holds something far superior to me; something softer hidden underneath apparent harshness. Warmth. Fire, still burning deep within. I dare to hold his gaze. He dares to say, "You are more than this."