She inspects the mask, the ultra-smooth opalescent finish, the sleek contours. Too much money, by half, but worth every penny. With this mask and that dress, no one will question her presence at the reception. Still, a sliver of doubt poked her spine, sending shivers through her legs. Even the thought of getting caught gave her a jolt of adrenaline. She’d find out soon enough; her horse-drawn chariot had arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall. Time to don the mask and step out into the world of beautiful people.
The salt encrusted skull rattled around in the trunk of his car. Too fast. Can’t slow down. He pressed on stepping harder on the gas pedal. Time wasn’t just of the essence, in this case, time was indeed everything.
She’d met her demise on a stormy night after boating all day. Too far out to beat the sudden squalls, she struggled for hours against the waves and wind only to succumb as her dinghy crashed into the reef a mere dozen feet from shore. Now, on the eve of Resurrection Day, her spirit sought to reanimate the old bones once more. That is, if he could return her skull to the exact location where she died.
Confound it, she’s done it again. Just a glance, mind you, but my mind is all a-swirl again. Not that you should be too surprised. As I’ve said before, she is lovely. I know you keep asking for a better description, but every time I set my mind to composing the appropriate words, I never get beyond ‘lovely’. Words just don’t do here justice. You’ll need to see her sometime. I’ll have to arrange for the two of you to meet, then you’ll know what I mean.
The surface of the glass reflects his fingers as he reaches out to tap her name from his contact list. In his mind, he composes the message he’ll write, compliments to show how much he cares, how much she means to him, how he can’t go on without her, fate, destiny, and the spiral sucks him down, collapsing the words into chaos. Still he hesitates, a finger of Damocles hovering over a technological precipice.
She loved shopping discount, consignment, and secondhand stores, imagining the lives of the previous owners, wrapping herself in their lives, placing herself in the orbit of their families and vocations; a second skin of wool and cotton and lace.