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Vanitas (a novella)

She was not particularly tall, but as it turned out, she had an inch on me (and a year of age). Her skin too was neutral, not fair and not olive, and you could not guess whether she would tan easily or burn. There were a couple of faint acne scars. And she was thin. She would not have to wrap her chest to get that boyish silhouette if she were a throwback to the flappers that her hair style suggested. Finally, she smiled to signal that I had studied her long enough.
 

Three Poems

We'd go mad in less than an eon,
longing to become windblown dust
or at least to move an inch.