Dalamahr was not her name. Nor was it her middle name. It rested at the back, in last place, though she was often referred to this as if it were her first. She had breasts she liked, and so did others, for they were shaped like they were meant to be that shape, and they also they were generally liked because they were breasts and folk like breasts. She was tall for her height and stood upright like she took her species’ evolution with a side of spite.
But she was alone…and that is where she found me, lying on a nap sack that was not a sack at all, but a place where I did indeed nap. Nap sack. I had hauled deep the air of infectious fauna burning in a pipe (which is to say I was high) and she was no longer alone, for there I was. She thought she was. She smiled and sang to herself as if she were alone. She may have even passed gas and picked her nose for all I can remember…but it was all the proof I needed that she thought she was alone.
Dalamahr liked to smoosh her face into a cool pillow when she was sleepy. She would imagine she had been abandoned on a planet, and was so alone that a whole other planet felt sorry for her. She would lie there and dream up locations where she might be alone, but still have the modern conveniences of home like running water and food supply and movies on DVD, all with a billion special features each. “Survival” was too vast an ocean for her lazy-eyed self esteem.
I liked the taste of her mouth after she drank anything at all. I used to think about what her bum might look like without her clothes on. I knew I would never find out what this was truly like...but I always had my Tudor cottage in the woods next to the vague memory of her countryside of smoochies. Smoochies.
Dalamahr like to pretend she was a super villain that repented right before her death, saving some person she wished the respect and admiration of. She always seemed to have at least one small bruise somewhere on her leg from clumsy running-into’s.
There are three power foods prescribed by every diet out there as being the best of the best in healthy foods….almonds, blueberries and spinach. Dalamahr could only stomach those things if they were fried together with both soy sauce AND Worcestershire sauce.
When she was a teenager she always wished she were one of those girls that were capable of cutting themselves for attention. She wasn’t. She blended. She wasn’t convinced that her blood wasn’t invisible to others anyway.
But there she was.
Sigh.
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