Black had never failed to look beautiful on me, except for this one time. A black patch had formed on the back of my hand. I stared blankly at the patch, thinking maybe if I looked hard enough, it would talk to me, tell me I was just being delusional and should catch a break.
“A break? How was I supposed to do that when I didn’t know how to seduce my mind into being still?” I fought to get my life rolling, like every damaged person would aim to do, but lethargy didn’t seem to want to let go of me today. Maybe I truly was becoming delusional, for there I stood, having conversations with a patch on my skin.
She always had this effect on me, and I knew overcoming her wouldn’t be easy, as I always fought to lose.
I had managed to make peace with everything before today, hiding my fears from the world under layers of toughness like a thug cornered by a gang in a cul-de-sac.

Dragging my sweaty body across the parlour, I motioned to take a quick bath but soon found myself on my haphazard-looking bed, reminiscing about what had been and what could have been.
Sade didn’t let me see her full glow in one take, but shades of her would have made any sane man want to act insane for her, even for a long minute. I dug deep into the pool of her beauty as she teased me without even trying too hard. I was a finished man for her, never searching for redemption from the spell she held me with. It grew into something more than lust, greater than love, and certainly a binding of one soul to another. She felt like a dream every day, even though we had only just met; everything felt surreal. I understood her like I had lived her life, and she understood me too, for we were like two lost heart pieces finally reunited after years of being apart.
Three months flew by at the quarantine camp, and with each day we spent together, I made her life my own. I flew high on the kite of love, and she held the string, navigating me from the earth and promising never to let me go.
We had both tested positive for the same virus and were considered a threat to the world, but not to each other. The campgrounds were home to 5,000 patients in recovery and treatment; I could have ended up with someone else, but we found each other and unintentionally began our journey of healing together.

Little did I know, I was being healed from a virus that had been detected while another slowly grew in me every day. We had good and bad days as the treatment process was a necessary torture, and the recovery phase felt like an exorcism.
Through it all, we showed up for each other so consistently that the nurses gave up trying to keep us apart to avoid infection or further deterioration of our already declining health. They made sure we shared the same treatment facilities, schedules, and sickbeds.

It was a miracle that we both managed to heal faster than expected. What we shared was felt by many in the camp, and others greatly envied it. I was so happy, as I had envisioned a life outside the four walls of this isolated structure, a life where we could live as one forever.
Something changed about her in those last days. I couldn’t tell what it was, but the spark in her eyes seemed to have dimmed. Even though she spent most of her time with me, she seemed lost and distant. I began to think she was scared of life outside the camp and what it held for us. I assured her I was never going to leave her, which somehow brought a smile to her face, bringing back the glow she always had.

Our camp days soon came to an end, and she returned home to reunite with her family, who had missed her terribly. She promised to come back in a few weeks to be with me. I wasn’t happy because I didn’t have anyone waiting for me at home, but I could wait for her—she was certainly worth it.
She left some of her things behind, feeling it would be too much trouble to travel back and forth with so much luggage. I saw this as a sign that she meant she was coming back. I had no reason to doubt her, but the things she left behind gave me a certain assurance.
We stayed in touch over the phone for the first week, but slowly, we talked no more. Her replies became late, her messages tardy, and we became truly distant.
I expressed my worries to her, but she didn’t care to validate them until I woke up to a text from her with the word “goodbye” boldly displayed.
“How did it all go wrong?” That question haunted me for months, and I sadly started living with it, even made peace with it.

Snapchat brought back memories of us today on my phone. It’s been a year since she left. We would have celebrated today together, but now, there was no one to see or feel anymore.
I lit a fire and was about to burn the things she had left with me; they had become unwanted memorabilia. But I got too lost in thought to notice I had my hand too close to the flames.
She had scarred my soul, but I guess that wasn’t enough for her. This patch was needed too.

By Andre