Neon Heartbreak

SCENE 1

The first time I saw you, it was like someone had turned the saturation all the way up. The world had been beige for weeks – maybe months – but then you appeared, helmet gleaming like you’d just stepped off a pop-art rocket, eyes too bright to be legal, smiling like you already knew the ending.

I wasn’t the type to fall in love at first sight.

I was practical. Cautious. My friends said I had “realistic expectations.”

But your technicolor smile was not a thing you could file under realistic.

It was dangerous. It was comic-book magic.

And I was already flipping to the next panel.

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SCENE 2

We burned fast. Every conversation felt like an exclamation mark, like the dialogue bubbles in my head couldn’t keep up with the pace of your words. We filled nights with too-loud laughter, and mornings with coffee we forgot to drink because we were too busy talking.

You had this way of saying my name – stretching it out, giving it the kind of emphasis that made it sound like it belonged on a billboard. I think I was addicted to it. Every time I heard it, I wanted the next hit.

If anyone had been drawing us back then,

they’d have sketched us in bold strokes and polka-dot shading,

love letters in all caps.

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SCENE 3

But somewhere between the fourth late-night diner run and the hundredth inside joke, I started seeing it. The flicker.

We were still glowing, but not with the same steady light. It was the kind of neon that buzzes, fighting to stay lit even as the wires fray.

You’d catch me looking at you too long,

and I’d catch you looking away too soon.

We were still a picture – still beautiful, still vivid –

but I could feel the paper starting to tear.

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SCENE 4

The cracks went public before I was ready. Friends asked questions. Your name came up in conversations you weren’t in. Rumors landed like cheap newsprint, smudging everything they touched.

I’d always thought love was private – ours especially. But now it felt like someone had posted it across the skyline in 72-point font: YOUR LOVE WAS A HEADLINE. And the sky behind it was thin and cold, like a bad printing job.

We started speaking in shorter sentences. The panels between us filled with white space. You had that distracted look – like you’d already been written into someone else’s story.

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SCENE 5

When it finally came, it wasn’t cinematic. There was no thunderstorm. No dramatic slow motion.

Just you. Standing there with that startled look – like the plot twist had caught you off guard, like you’d reached the last page and realized the ending was worse than you imagined.

I almost laughed. It was so absurd – the wide eyes, the mouth caught mid-word. But it wasn’t funny. Not yet.

In that moment, we were both readers and characters,

helpless to rewrite the dialogue.

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SCENE 6

And then… it was over.

No more late-night calls. No more technicolor smiles or speech bubbles bursting with my name. You slipped out of the frame like you’d never been there at all.

That’s your specialty, isn’t it – heartbreak? A perfect entrance, a spectacular first act, and an ending you fade out of before the credits roll.

I’d like to say I closed the book. But some stories don’t close; they just sit open, ink fading in the sunlight, the colors still too bright to forget.

So I keep them – all the panels, all the words – pinned up in my mind like pages torn from a comic I’m not ready to throw away.

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END SCENE

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Neon Heartbreak: a Pop-Art Story

💛 At The Yellow Studio, we believe art should feel like play – messy, joyful, and a little bit rebellious. Whether you’re sketching in a café, splashing paint in your studio, or experimenting with AI and pop art, the goal isn’t perfection – it’s fun. Because when you’re having fun, your art becomes magnetic. Let’s keep it that way.

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