Lost and Found: A Love Story

Oh, buckle up, buttercup, because you won't believe the real-life soap opera I was forced to attend, all while trying to get from Essen to Düsseldorf on the world's slowest moving train. I thought I'd be cozied up with my new book, but nope—fate had other, more theatrical plans. Suddenly I became the unwilling audience to a romantic duel as fiery as a telenovela, but without the steamy eye contact.

Enter our star-crossed lovers. First up, our Ukrainian Rose, not the sort of beauty that stops traffic, but the subtle type whose radiance doesn't so much hit you over the head as it seeps into your consciousness over time. She's escaped war-torn Ukraine and is now shopping for a brand-new life, just like you'd browse the aisles of a euro store.

Then we have Mr. Deutschland, a strapping lad whose shoes gleamed so brightly, I was almost blinded. His posture was as stiff as his personality—so prim and proper, you'd think he had a yardstick up his back. Even his hair had an air of smug entitlement, okay?

So she's busy imagining a life of endless possibility, like she's in some sort of fairy tale or a Lifetime movie. Meanwhile, he was basically giving a TED Talk on why they should stay together. We're talking bullet points, subheadings, and even a mention of "ROI." Yes, darling, he was calculating the "Return on Investment" on their relationship. I mean, who needs Cupid when you've got a business analyst, am I right?

Ah, but let me add a twist to our narrative, just a little poetic license, if you will. This is how I imagined her past life: Before she was navigating the maze of love with Mr. German Efficiency, there was Alexei. Picture him as a Ukrainian artist, as poetic as a sunset captured in a well-loved novel. Now, if you've ever laid eyes on Gustav Klimt's iconic painting 'The Kiss,' that golden embrace, you'll have an inkling of how Alexei, and she spent their evenings and every conversation they had. His language was that of colors on canvas and the whispered promises at midnight. Their love was as genuine as a handwritten letter in an age of emojis and DMs. He made her feel like the most intricate of his masterpieces, the crescendo in his life's symphony.

But life, that relentless dramatist, called 'cut' before their love story could reach its season finale. War came knocking, as it does, turning her love story into a tragedy, filed away in the dusty cabinets of "What Could Have Been".

So, there she was, staring into the eyes of Mr. "I-Have-A-Five-Year-Plan-For-My-Love-Life.", you can be sure she was listening, and her ears were all ears, but her mind's already taken the next train out of there.

Whether you're running from a past you would rather forget or sprinting toward some fantasy future, let me spill the tea: we're all making deals and breaking hearts in this messy, noisy, complicated bazaar we call life. While she was trading in the currency of hope and undying affection, he was evaluating his relationship portfolio to diversify his assets. I mean, could they be any more mismatched?

So, what's the real takeaway here? Keep your private melodrama private, or risk becoming someone else's snarky storytelling material. Maybe, just maybe, handle your emotional dirty laundry somewhere else—like a therapist's office. Radical thought, I know.

And for the rest of you eavesdroppers, grab your popcorn, or your emotional support pet, or just keep clinging to that handrail for dear life, god knows we all need the support. Because, who knows, the next free theater show I stumble into could very well feature you. Sip on that, drama kings and queens. Here's to life's unexpected entertainment! Cheers!
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The poem

In a slow-moving train through Essen's gray,

A Ukrainian Rose was on her way.

She fled from a war that took her dear,

Landed in a market of love, so clear.

Once upon a time, love was pure,

A Ukrainian poet, the remedy, the cure.

They spoke in colors, whispers in the night,

In a world turned dark, they were each other's light.

But war knows not of love so grand,

It stole her poet, her love, her land.

Now she is here, in a market cold,

Where love is not felt, but weighed and sold.

Mr. Germany sits across, so prim,

Talks of love as investment, on a whim.

Bullet points and gains, gains, he says,

She listens but dreams of better days.

Each a player in life's cruel bazaar,

Selling dreams from an old, worn jar.

In love and life, we barter and plead,

Ignoring the heart, the soul, the need.

Old love a ghost, in memory's hue,

New love a deal, in essence, untrue.

She wears the past like an unseen scar,

In a world forgetting what true feelings are.

Here in this train, life's tales unfold,

Of fresh new starts and loves grown cold.

In the marketplace of gain and loss,

We're all just players, flipping the coin toss.

So if you find life absurd, unfair,

Where love's complexities drown in air,

Remember, in this game of sorrow and shame,

Sometimes the win is simply not to play the game.

Sega