Her figure rested on his father's chair. With every ounce of pressure exerted from her buttocks and dangling legs, the oak chair creaked with the sound of tumbling branches in the silence of the room. The prolonged absence of her dearest Edward provoked the commencement of a letter. Her charcoal-blue slip for which she wore housed flowered fish of teal, oceanic colors. The blooming fish swam about her decorative cloth in an unorganized fashion. These silky waves embraced her porcelain flesh, barely exerting weight. Her countenance was that of the palest milk, absent of a natural pink blush that had once underlined her mournful complexion. Her thinning charcoal hair fluttered about weightlessly, rhythmically entranced by the slight breeze that spiraled in from a nearby window.
The commencement of a letter to her dearest of companions produced glittering tears of frustration. These diamond droplets meandered through the already-dampened stream descending from her emerald eyes. Her pallet must be prepared. Her fingernails dug into the crease made by a standing shelf and the edge of a pull-down tablet. Her fingertips pulled at the slab of wood. The awaited pallet collapsed gracefully into position with the assistance of a spring-loaded arrival. A blank leaf was produced from one of the revealed compartments; thus, she hesitantly began.
The woman's emaciated fingers grasped hold of a nearby writing implement. The stiff quail's feather absorbed a proportionately large droplet of the watery ink into its angled root. From there, it dusted the paper with expression. The inked lines curled and caressed each other with an ease only distinguishable in her print. The writing, which was ordinarily elegant, spoke, 'My dearest Edward'' Hesitation clinched tightly to her instinct as she scratched out the most impersonal of words which lay before her. The omitted greeting was far too formal for either of their tastes. Her person was overcome with uncertainty, for her mind could not be simply expressed two-dimensionally.
Silence overcame the crimson and ivory filled flesh and her intangible elements began to disassociate. All the particular characteristics of the man she married wafted through the air as scent travels about a room. His smile was missed dearly. When hit with merely a droplet of happiness, the edges of his pale cherry orifice would gladly awaken and curl. The soft, unsewn seam revealed disheveled ivory pillows lined with smoke's greasy residue. Edward's scent spiraled in with the breeze and seasoned the women's nostrils with a distinct spice. The ingredients were never quite known apart from cigarettes lining every contour of his figure and the whiskey blanket that was placed permanently around his tongue. Edward's stature stood proudly several inches below those of average height. The length of his being, however, was nearly noticed by those fixated on the tasks of their schedule. When his hair was managed, neatly placed tendrils spiraled upwards, hoping to fill the space that lacked. Though, there was not a brush that was courageous enough to bear the knotted threading of his string.
The elements of dissociation clasped together and the breath of reality gently whispers to her senses. A new leaf of parchment lay before her, the blank composition endlessly taunting her feathered implement into motion. The musty scent of Edward still lingered amongst the spiral breeze. In remembrance, the woman's peach-lined lips curled next to her plump cheeks as her fingertips gently clasped the frail and feathered tool. From this exact position, the formation of Eileen's composition commenced.