She was a “spirit bottle”. Perhaps it was just a dream… or perhaps… a reality!

She was standing lonely on the shelf, sparkling like an earthy star. Her body, smooth like an untouched petal, was erected like a crystal statue. It was gently wrapped with a long, very long, silky dress, all made of glass. Her dress was glittering, so softly, under the faint light of the bar. She was watching around, so discretely. All eyes were on her, examining every single drop inside her body. All were eager to quench their thirst, be tipsy, forget the pain, feel the joy of dreaming, the joy of flying high, and the joy… of letting go…

She was observing… until suddenly, he walks in. She sees him coming from afar; a tall, handsome, virile man. As he approaches the bar, her body starts shaking. She almost forgot she’s made of glass, She almost forgot she’s delicate, and can break, in case she trips… and falls in love.

He offers her a look and she gladly takes it, embraces it, feels it, and protects it. She asks: “what can I offer him?” She could not move! She could not speak! She could not say… “I… feel”! She could not… but she was sober, like a morning dewdrop. And her feelings were dancing inside, bending, jumping, as if they’ve just aroused from an eternal dream. She offers him a gift – her look – and he gladly takes it, embraces it, feels it, then… utterly destroys it! She asks: “what happened? Did he just destroy the only thing I had to offer?” He disappears, withdraws himself, voluntarily I assume, and leaves her waiting… waiting for him to come back. Where did he go? She said: “I must have done something wrong! Was I allowed to seize his look? Perhaps not! Perhaps I should have given it back!” She then silently vows to borrow that look – instead of selfishly apprehending it – but he refuses firmly, and ignores her!

Drowned in her solitude, she secretly wishes for his hand to touch her neck, for his other hand to touch her body, for his eyes to see her and see through her, for his lips to taste her fragrance. She wishes he could gulp her, empty her, till the last drop. She was a “spirit bottle”, standing lonely on the shelf. Everybody fancied her, and used her, to forget their sorrows. Do they remember her tomorrow? No! They remember their sorrows… and forget her.

Time have passed… and dust have grown. Her dress is no longer shining. It became dull like a winter cloud.

While he’s gone, she has stayed. She just wondered, what if she spoke?! What if she told him how she felt? Would he have stayed? She kept wondering, and thinking and dreaming until she realized that no matter what the reality would be, the truth is, her words remained unspoken. And he became a dream… he became her dream. She will probably see him! She will probably see him tonight… and every single night!



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