A Kiss From Death

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved going to museums with my grandparents.

They’d always tell me about the paintings and their meanings and every time without fail they’d tell me how they met at the very same museum we walked through.

They’d tell me it was love at first sight. They met at a painting where a girl is being saved by her lover. My grandma would tell me about how that was her favourite painting, how every time she came here she’d sit in front of it and just enjoy the precise strokes of the paintbrush, the detail put into the emotions.

They instilled this idea into my head that I’d meet someone the same way, and it would be as magical as it was for them.

So, I would sit in front of my favourite painting, and wait and wait. Waiting for someone to sit next to me and talk to me about the painting and when we would look at each other butterflies would go off in both our stomachs and we’d confess our feelings.

But now, I’ve lost all hope.

In my eighties and looking at the same painting I’ve been looking at for sixty years. Still to no luck.

I still appreciate the painting but it gives me a sense of sadness, knowing it hadn’t brought the attention of a pretty girl.

‘Mind if I sit?’

A voice asked, I looked to the right of me. An elderly lady with pretty white hair and the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen stood there with her emerald green purse in her hands.

I inclined my head and she sat down.

‘I’ve always loved this painting. I just could never find it anywhere,’ she said with a content sigh, I looked at her, a smile dancing among the wrinkles, ‘It is a beautiful painting. I’ve never gotten bored of it.’

She returned the look.

‘Let me guess, your grandparents told you the same story?’

I nodded.

‘It’s never worked for me either.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Death.’

‘You’re beautiful, Death.’

‘Are you ready to love?’ she asked, I nodded.

She leaned over my chair and kissed me on the lips. She tasted so sweet and I swore I fell in love right then and there. Oh, how I’ve longed for this moment. I felt myself slip away into her lovely embrace, my mind at ease, finally finding my love, my one true love.

I faded from existence, my soul staring down at my body, her hands holding mine as we looked down.

'Is this everything you've dreamed of?' she asked me, I looked at her. Her face is young and even more beautiful.

'Indeed.'

I said with a sombre smile, watching as the wrinkles from my hands disappear.

We watched from above, a young couple stood in front of the painting.

The man kneeled down on one knee and pulled out a ring, his boyfriend started crying and nodded.

'With you here now, this painting will forever be seen as the painting of love.'

I wanted to cry.

I watched as all these couples got engaged, and got together. I couldn't help but yearn to be like them.

'Are you jealous?' she asked me, I shook my head.

'I want people to be happy. I could only dream to find myself the perfect woman but came to no avail.'

'You have found something you love though.'

I shook my head.

'The one I loved never came for me, she stood in the shadows. My best friend, she was. I loved her and confessed but she rejected so I sought to sit in front of the painting in the hope she would eventually love me back. But she never did. Because I was a girl.'

'Love has no gender. Why not seek her out?'

'She died fifty years ago... I've been waiting ever since.'

The woman looked at me, a warm smile crossing her lips.

'Would you like a second chance?' I nodded.

I was back at the museum, looking at the painting, my eyes filling with water.

'I'm sorry.' I heard a familiar voice say.

I looked over and saw my best friend, 'You came.'

'I felt bad and... I don't want to live a life where I'm not happy with my choices. I love you and want to be with you, so if my window hasn't been closed, I'd like you to close it with me inside.'

A smile crossed my face as I stood from my chair and stood in front of her.

'Even if you have broken my heart... I'll never close my window to you. Even if I die lonely. Even if you die before me, my love will never die, like this painting.'

A smile crossed her face as her hands cupped my cheeks.

'You are perfect and I love you.'

'I love you too.'

My second chance had worked. in front of that same painting, I proposed, and she accepted.

We got married in front of the painting.

Lived our life looking at the painting and when we finally had grandkids we told them all about how we met, and how the painting was special to us.

They grew up doing the same.

We watched from the heavens above, hand in hand, watching as generations on, everyone met their partners in front of their favourite painting, even when the world had fallen into war, even when the museum was destroyed, the ritual continued, they'd go to their favourite spots, confess there and that continued on.

'You did it,' the old woman said, still as sweet as ever, 'of course we did. Love never sees to die, only grows as generations continue on. As you had said, love has no gender... it has no sense of time either.'

'Wise words indeed. Love is a concept though, it gives people a sense of life. Have a reason to live. But what of those who do not feel it? Are their lives incomplete?"

'Everyone feels love, it may not be for humans but it could be their hobbies, a painting, clothes, their family pet, their family. It isn't always physical, but a feeling deep down.'