This is a work of fiction, yet it includes some elements of real life. The reader make perhaps inject their own thoughts - be they contradictory or arousing reactions other than those described. It is intended as a glimpse into that space, between fantasy and reality, the place where sometimes two strangers meet and create within it a semblance of a home?
Whilst it may feel at times almost as real as any real home, this place is an illusion. Words do not foundations make and although they may tether one in place for a time, life and the reality of living ultimately override the validity of this place, and one must accept - difficult as it may seem - that illusion is but the self's desire to seek relief. Motives and modus operandi may differ as people process this place in personal ways... The constant however is the same: Words can be exchanged and emotions bartered, but, words alone can never replace even a single moment of living outside the myriad lines they create.
Being illusionary, no such transcendence can evolve from the exchange. These exchanges can prop one up, salvage and salve. Yet he concept of love - the emotion - perhaps unintended and created in the process is but a fairy tale... perhaps a parable to pass on when one reaches the other side... the wiser for having reached it.
As to the parable itself? That is best left for the reader to construct.