She had crystals frozen in lines down her cheeks. I suspect they were once tears. Signs of being human, showing emotion. Frozen into signs of being something else entirely. Everything about her existed in such a way that one would be inclined to believe there was never anything human there. Burdened with the pain of people she had never even met. Her blood pumped for places she had never even been. She cried over obituaries of anyone who passed away before it was their time. There was never a doubt in my mind this woman was never human. Her compassion alone was enough to believe the opposite of what she said. She was an angel, if such things existed. A Goddess, if angels did not. She harbored the beauty of every living thing. The world glimmered in her eyes. Every crystal frozen on her cheek served only as a reminder to me that she was precious. A gem in a mine shaft, but too priceless to simply be mined away. She needed to be in a glass case, that of which opening would trigger the loudest of alarms. In a museum, where the world could see those crystals. But no one could appreciate each saddened thought, each crystallized appreciated for man kind, the way I could.

I’ll be her glass case. The loudest alarm. I’ll be her museum, and I’ll watch her tears turn into crystals.

Crystal Crystal Reviewed by Ali Larsen on December 10, 2013 Rating: 5

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