This is a love story more powerful and sizzling than Bella and Edward’s.

 

Studies have always been taken extremely seriously. Perhaps more seriously than romantic relationships. Which made me wonder: with all the “forbidden romance” novels out, such as “Twilight”, why not up the standard of the typical purple prose-ish harlequin writing – by borrowing from our stylish geometry textbooks?

Too radical? Too raunchy?

It has always seemed to me that Mills and Boon novels lack the coherence and devastating word choice that well-written novels of the mathematical nature have. That such romance novels aren’t fully realising their capabilities is a grave affair. Therefore, in order to tighten and spice up the sloppy writing of love stories, I propose the writing elements of mathematics textbooks be incorporated into such literatures.

I’ve thought of the idea, explored the option and have, in fact, put together a test excerpt of what I predict will not only be a new best-selling romance for teenagers, but also the top picked geometry textbook for schools worldwide.

This is “Geometry: A Love Story”.

Two parallel lines fell in love. They could never truly be together, could never truly feel each other, but they were always side by side. Through thick and thin they never left each other.

It was no matter of lust, no matter of gender. Their love meant more than the heat of passion.

Lust and want was more of an irrelevant outlet for bitter individuals who know not of the true feeling of being needed. Just being close enough to feel the others present, to know that without the other you shall never be whole, can never truly be called together was breathtaking.

They lay side by side out of necessity. The very definition of parallelism was that the two lines could never meet, never intersect. In some ways, it was for the best. More meaning was given towards their relationship with each other. Never shall they stoop so low to have the lewd thoughts of those of the more perpendicular orientation. Still, each line still thought wistfully of how exhilarating it would be to at least touch the other. To at least gently brush across the other’s side.

 

A pair of shoes, a pair of lines, a pair of shoes again. Is love really about crossing lines?

Photo: dsostatic

There never was a time when the distance they kept from each other grew closer. It was impossible. The limit that the cruel mistress known as geometry set upon them. But at times it was a small mercy for though they could never get closer, they could never get further.

Just to be with the other. Just to know that you depend upon them and they on you is the most precious feeling in the world. Each line would do anything to never leave the others side.

Everything would last, each line shackled to the other in some pseudo-slavery can gain freedom that none had ever dreamed of.

In Euclidean space, they traversed towards infinity together.

A love never to be fulfilled.

 

Heather Lim is currently a senior attending Singapore American School. She enjoys collecting teapots as a hobby.