Paper Cut

On a sunny summer day I was lying on a pier, with my head resting on your lap. There were no waves. The turquoise sea was calm, almost silent.

I heard the buzz coming from the people sitting in a small café on the beach and shouts of children in the background. They were there, cut and pasted from another time, another place. They did not see us, in spite of the train of my dress covering about one-third of the pier, coloring it red. We were there in our own invisible bubble, more real for us than reality itself was; non existing for others.

Rhinestone pins were holding my auburn locks together. Your fingers, warmed by salty sun rays, ran through my hair. I could smell their scent. You whispered you loved me. My heart trembled.

I do not know how I came there that day, to the sunny black hole of our lives which interlaced over and over again. I recognized the dress I was wearing. It was a blood-colored silk gown, modeled after a snow-white dress my Barbie doll had when I was a little girl. I recognized the pier, the sea, the scents. Ghosts from the past.

The colors changed when I was brought here. That morning I wore an ivory silk gown, one of a kind, and my hair was blond. The sea was disturbed, cold and gray, and it rained back there. The surrounding people were cut and pasted from some other backgrounds to my day.

My heart was calm and lukewarm lately, it did not boil and ache like it did here, in our sunny black hole, on the pier. It has never healed, but it has cooled down and was surviving just fine for years, tended by a non-disturbing environment; the environment without your presence. But you had to bring me here today, didn’t you?

I will meet you again, I promise. But, please, let me go back from the pier now. The sun is burning my shoulders and I am getting freckles.

Please, let me go. The paper cut on my heart opened wide.

Let me go back, my love. It is my wedding day. The other cut and paste people are waiting, and I am running late.

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