Alcyone
Never Cross the Dotted Line
The Dress
I tried on your dress today....
I found it buried under years of dust permeated with the
soft scents of age and mothbolls. Your purfume still clung
to a few precious fibers of air. It faded when I opened
the chest. Your chest, the one that's a tangled mass of
whicker...I opened it the other day. I slid the soft silk
folds of the dress I found over my head...down my body.
I missed you.
The dress fit a little different today. A little tighter in
the bosom...it flared a little wider in the hips, and the
sholder-span broadened.
It made me miss you even more.
Now that the dress fit differently.
I remembered the story you told me about...the one with the
girl and the glass slipper. I felt like her today. Only
they were your slippers I was wearing.
I cried today...putting on your dress. It made me think of
you.
I miss you.
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