george's recent caption on insta... the galex of it all... george has a wonderful girlfriend who'd seemed like some sort of fortuitous accident when he first met her. a chink of light amidst the darkness. a rare blessing from god. luck is a heresy only for the devout, george thinks. so he believes, in some sense of the word, in luck. 'lucky in something' and ofc its mocking his team but also. he's never been lucky when it came to alex. when it truly mattered, anyway. it was always bad timing, one of them spurned by god, or the other, or both of them at once, in joint commiseration. but he remembers meeting alex, as a child, the genesis, of it all (he recalls amorphously, from the christian teachings of his primary school). not luck, in any definition of the word, but an inevitability. it was always going to play out this way, and he was always going to be powerless to rewrite the doctrine. it was always going to end with the both of them, inconsolable. yet he remembers a hand finding his in the dark. how he wasn't alone within it. its blind safety, the warmth of another, which'd felt, not like fortune, but relief, a momentary reprieve. how asinine it would be to have the sun and yearn for the very darkness which had preceded it, george thinks. how perverse. how icarus would have fought to be in his place. and yet they are cut from the same cloth, both doomed to pine eternally after something which may never be. but george laments aloud what could've been, in canada, and lets his girlfriend hold him and comfort him, albeit inadequately, futilely. everything, he thinks privately, has become an inadequacy, since alex, his biggest misfortune to date, his eternal damnation. he falls asleep to the gentle mercy of her hands stroking his hair and dreams of darkness
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