yeah but WHAT IF, what if there were another timeline once, one where you met the love of your life and fell passionately madly in love, and there was a fulfillment, a companionship, the look in their eyes, the feel of their hair, the feel of them lying in the night beside you - BUT something terrible happened. Something bad. Aliens invaded or demons burst out of the gates of hell or the great plague struck or maybe you just got cancer, and you were suffering and dying, and the love of your life found a way to save you: shunt the universe to an alternate timeline where the love of your life was never born and the aliens never invaded and the demons never burst out of the gates of hell and the great plague never struck and the cancer never happened. “She’s better off without me,” thought the love of your of life, “she’ll find someone else. She’ll live. She’ll live. This is better.” - and they flipped the switch. Now you have a peaceful life. Birds sing, the sun shines, rain falls, years pass, and you’re not unhappy, but the years just keep passing, and you keep thinking you’ll meet someone, but you never do. You have little flings; they don’t last. You never marry. You pass 30. You pass 40. You pass 50. You grow old. One day you realize it has been more than a decade since anybody has embraced you and slowly you realize you’re going to age and die alone. And it’s really not so bad, your job’s cool, you have a cute house, with a cute garden, with a cute cat or maybe a dog, you travel the world; there is beauty, there are flowers and art and music and even friends, and really it’s not so bad. Every day is pretty good. You are aging alone and soon you will die alone, but it’s fine really. But you never meet anyone, and sometimes just before you fall asleep you feel like there ought to be someone there beside you; there really ought to be; something is wrong with the universe, something is not right; but these thoughts are only a dream, and you go on alone, never knowing that your entire life, and the sun and the rain and the flowers and the music and your quiet life, were, and are, a gift to you, the last gift of all, from someone who loved you, and loves you, more than life itself.