My lips curved into a smile as I watched her. I studied her facial features closely, features that I knew by heart and could in a well depicted manner, divulge its essential contours.
I gently rubbed my hand across her face. My index finger rubbed the corners of her lips that were smeared with ruby-wool lipstick.
I touched her dimples and kissed her eyes that were emboldened with courage. I thought of her laughter; that sharp, croaky laughter of hers that seemed unladylike and showed off her perfect dentition.
Quietly and gently, I bent over and sealed my love for her with a kiss. I felt the smooth-woolly texture of the canvas on my lips and the memories of May 5th, the night Munachi died from a ghastly accident were conjured up in my mind.
Smiling with eyes made glassy with tears, I whispered, “I Love You” to the portrait of Munachi.
Written by Hilary