short story

Tell me what i did, please? 

Dear Mrs, Singh  

I have chosen to publish a piece based on your late daughter please read it. I hope for your blessing and have decided to cut all revenue it may or may not receive and put it towards the cost of her cremation. 

I once knew a girl whose skin had an alien texture it was brittle and leathery like an outdated copy of some ancient text, but her eyes were smooth as silk with batik stars that told stories in a language only, she could decipher. I loved this girl and wanted to keep her in a box of silica beads till the blood in her lips had drained, so I could forever hold her as she so desperately wanted. I dare not say these morbid thoughts out loud for i know i sound mad, madly in love. I had known her only a year prior to her disappearance. Those six months branded something into me a piece of a locket that can only be opened by her, she was quaint as a holiday cottage besides a river. Both had something in common they were only in demand at certain times, otherwise were cast aside in the back of the public conscious. I liked that about her because i was oblivious back then, for no building chooses to be built in isolation exposed to the cruelty of this world on its lonesome. I feel a fool now remembering how her eyes glistened as she walked behind the crowds holding her perpetual sorrow down like an ancestorial grudge, if she was God, I'd have clasped my hands and asked what made you so scared of appearing human. She by no means had the sort of look girls chased and guys lusted over but she did have a body that demanded attention one that made her simple clothes look stunning, she didn't want attention of that sort even if she was well spoken in the conversations of body and pleasure for it wasn't quite her cup of tea. This distaste for the sultry air her body created made her neglect self-care or any sort of kindness towards her body, she was happy to let it rot because all the mirrors she passed had already seemed to paint her as a loathsome thing. I wonder if i had screwed out my eyes and had gifted them to her back then i might've been able to trap her in this place for little longer, perhaps if I used pesticide on the little fleas of trouble that gnawed her brain she might’ve stayed. But it's far too late, so i leave this note in your care. 

Sincerely, adam