I have a secret. I’ve got something that I shouldn’t have.
Her hair feels soft, like I always imagined girl’s hair would feel. Her skin is smooth and her eyes so blue. She doesn’t look the way I thought a dead girl would. I thought death would steal something from her, but it didn’t. On the contrary, it gave something to me. Her death was her gift. Ha. I like that. She is poetry. I’m going to write that down.
It was a lot of effort to remove her head from her body. A lot harder than I thought it would be. Who would have thought that such a beautiful head would have so much gristle and sinew and stuff? Note to self, I need to invest in some better knives.
Her mouth pouts a little, like I’ve done something to upset her. Like I’m late for dinner or don’t compliment her new skirt. I pinch her lips together with my thumb and forefinger. I don’t want her to look upset. I want her to look beautiful. She doesn’t look dead. I think that will come later. At the moment she looks like she did when I met her. When we had the conversation. The one that started all of this.
I smooth her hair and make it cover her ears, so it looks the way it did when she shook her head and said, ever so quietly,
“I’m sorry but we don’t stock that here. There’s a shop up the road called Steel Wheels. It sells a lot more alternative stuff. You should try there.”
They didn’t have what I wanted, but that’s not the point. She tried. She understood. She spoke to me like I was a normal person who deserved to be spoken to. She was lovely.
She is lovely.
She is love.
I want to keep her and it makes me sad that I can’t. I wonder how long it will be before she starts to smell, before her skin wilts and she starts to smell and can’t be mine anymore. I think I’d be happy only to have her body for a few hours, but I would like to keep her face forever. She is so pretty.
Is this what its like to have a girlfriend?
I think it might be.