Divinicy

Ediyixw was not anything at all. She had hair like flowers; strands that danced in the morning and pollinated the world. Her eyes were mountains – old and jagged and dangerous. Her cheeks flowed in as tides, bringing new life with each passing moon. Her breath became the seasons and her thoughts smelt of wet soil. She was everywhere at home but never tried to stay. Her touch was of cracking ice and her memory hard to enunciate. Undenoted, she dwelled in seconds, but when spoken, Ediyixw broke into minor thirds.


She was entirely made up. She was made up, in front of a mirror, every day. She was a lie when she said hello between cigarettes. She was invented as she waited for the bus, fabricated when choosing tomatoes, and composed during appointments. She was as fictional as the page in front of you and as true as the space between the letters; as determinate as a choice and as concrete as the color of your eyes. Most of all, Ediyixw didn’t care and didn’t hold onto herself too dearly.


Walking over pavement, she came across a day unlike yesterday but still trying to be tomorrow. It was pressed between a humid dog and a rainy set of chairs. In one of them sat a boy, perhaps old enough to know better, but still willing to get up every morning without complaint. He thought she was something of a crime – the way she carried herself, wearing an effusive dress and looking everywhere but now. There was something in the corner of her eye, perhaps a bit of ivory or maybe a startling interpretation, and it excited him. He went to say hello but realized it was already noon. He was running late – by the time he managed to speak he was only talking to himself.


 “Hello.”


Ediyixw had already reached her destination by mid-four. Her curvature was waiting next to an oncoming woman of some years. A crinkly woman walking as many dogs as she had lives and all the time baiting her breath. It was a sign of the times- everywhere you turned there were some stale sweets and a wagging tongue. Ediyixw smiled – mostly toward painted fingers – and the old woman frowned all the way to the ground. Cursing lightly behind her eyes, she bent over and retrieved her mouth. After slowly pursing her teeth, the woman managed to recommend a “What are you doing here?” and Ediyixw didn’t mind. After all, it was nice to see a dog take time out of its busy day to help a friend. She said goodbye, buying a parcel of June to take home with her.


Pouring herself some tea, Ediyixw sat comfortably on an overly comfortable evening. She sipped one two three times. She could already see tomorrow’s plans collapsing. She knew the neighborhood ants would not leave her be – too jealous were they of her fingers and thumbs. Of course our heroine knew better than to trust ants, even when they gave her gifts of moonshine or baskets of time. To be fair, on their part, the ants never begrudged her this and thought she was rather pretty for a human. They continued to bring her their harvests and she in turn would thankfully pour sugar on the driveways and graves of strangers.


Finally it was time to wash the rest away, go to bed, and start over again. It was nice to have the day, but nicer still to put it on the shelf next to the others. Ediyixw sighed lightly in order to get the feeling of sleep, took off her face, and went to bed.

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