Stories in few words 1

When she met the prince, it was just like she dreamed it — she had dreamed they would have a lot in common, and lots to talk about; that their spirits would sync well as they walked through the garden catching up on each other’s lives.

But, she hadn’t considered the politics of their meeting; a man in line to the throne, and a commoner whose people were once from the shantytown by the beach. She hadn’t considered what tongues would say, what folks would think, or even how and where they’d dine.

Naturally, they had to forgive each other.

“Do you, prince, forgive my common status — knowing that it’s who I am and how I was born? Do you promise to accept me and trust that we can find common ground even in our differences?”

“I do.”

“Do you, woman, forgive my royalty and all its trappings — the intrusion, paparazzi, and endless editorials; the loss of anonymity and freedom? Do you forgive our disparate experiences? Knowing that we may not always understand each other, do you promise that when you don’t understand me, you will still think well of me and treat me with respect?”

“I do.”

They were in agreement, in love, and together.

Fuck you, they said to the world as they walked off into the sunset — the sound between them the laughter of two people whose joke was theirs alone.