Pandora's Box could not be unopened, no one could return to Eden.

We lay that way for a while, breathing together, watching the shadows flicker over the walls and each other's faces. She played with a wet strand of my hair, wrapping it around her finger. It should have been awkward, but somehow it wasn't. I felt something moving between us, like light or heat, growing with every breath.

She tasted sweet, like oranges, liquid sunshine in my mouth as we kissed, our tongues playing together.

Since the beginning, the Fates determined which souls would be born, what kinds of lives they would live, and for how many days. They did this out of duty, out of destiny, and without emotion.

Perhaps she was happiest when she was out of control. She looked at the fates and said three little words, not one regret.

Meant to be" allows for lazy. The idea of destiny alleviates anxiety; it comforts us. We stop believing that we had ownership, that we could have done something to change the outcome. It's lazier than The Clapper.