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fyn gula
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the old man put the lipstick stained napkin back in the box like a father tucking his young child into bed and slowly leafed through his collection. it was rare to have one such as helin interested in the contents of his box, for very few people stop to examine papers on the ground or pause their agendas of daily progression to find there may just be something of intricate value discarded.
the old man was obviously searching for something special, unaware that helin thought all of them were, so she just blindly stuck her hand in the box and pulled out a postcard.
"oh, would you look at that..." the old man said. his eyebrows lifted as if pulled up by invisible strings. it was tattered on the edges. perhaps it had rolled about in the wind and had been rained on before it was discovered. helin could see he was thinking back to that day he found this 4x5 foto of peonies. the colour was softened and muted by sun exposure.
"i was walking in the rubble of a demolished theatre in berlin," the old man said, turning the postcard over.
"and there it was. lost its stamp though. that would have been fucking cool if it still had the stamp."
"may i?" helin asked, holding out her hand, her turquoise bracelet sliding a bit along the smoothness of her arm.
the old man gave it to her. he ran his fingers through his grisly grey stubble and helin could hear the scratching like sandpaper on cement.
"sie haben lassen hein inneres mit einem anstarren ihrer schonheit schneller schlagen," helin read. she was quiet for a moment as she attempted to translate it herself. "doesn't that mean something about the heart beating faster?" she asked, and her head tilted slightly, revealing small silver hoops in her ear once hidden under her hair. they were a gift from nimbia on her ninth birthday.
"correct," the old man said, he smiled without showing his teeth. "you have made my heart beat faster with one gaze of your beauty."
helin closed her eyes for a brief moment and imagined the circumstances of the postcard's origin. who wrote it? who received it? how did it get lost in the rubble of a building bombed in the war?
and as she did all she could see was her father and her mother. copello lived to love caetolun. sentiment like this was a daily liturgy of his affection.
but why did he leave her?
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010922
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