She said she loved him because he was symbolical to a line that stretched to infinity from both sides of her life.

"A line does always start from a point", she said. "... And then, it rolls on to places unknown on the opposite directions - to an ultimate unending. You're just like that."

"Well, that's fine", he replied "but I still don't get why you love me. I mean, shouldn't you rather fall in love with a line?"

"Actually, I had. There was a time when I loved the line passionately. But then, I came to realize that what I was really looking for in the line was some property in a man I could possibly fall in love with. And I kept searching until I found you."

"So, you wouldn't have loved me if I wasn't ... ummm... like a line?"

"O, what a foolish question. You couldn't have been anything but a replica of the line. It's your essence. I'd always love you."

And for the first time, he felt sad that she loved him.

Labels: fiction, fiction. flash fiction, fool, love, poetry, point, short story, solitude, story, straight line, surreal