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She wore a bright pink dress, walked into the cafe bringing in a calm breeze that set the mood right. It wasn’t her perfume, it was her soul.
‘Coffee to go please’.
I had never met her before but I imagined she was loved. I imagined her heart big enough to soothe the deepest pains, heal the broken.
‘Milk or sugar? ‘ I asked
‘Black’
She looked sad, I stalled with her order thinking of a good line to start a conversation.
This beautiful soul should never know a sad day. Never face it alone.
I’d figured it out and as I handed her coffee over to her, it was go time I thought
‘What brings you to our small town’
She wasn’t expecting it but she smiled was about to answer when another customer walked over.
See you later then and she was gone.
I never got to hear her story, never got to feel her soul.
Later dad came back from work. He worked at the city morgue.
Strange day today, he said.
A body was brought in and no one could identify her.
Dad was never one to bring work home but today was different.
She looked so peaceful he continued yet her beautiful bright pink dress was stained with so much blood.
His words seems muffled after that
I knew it was her and I could hear no more.
She was filed as Jane doe
Buried in the graveyard outside of town.
It’s been over a year now and I still think of her .(she still comes up in my mind.)
So today I took flowers to her grave or at least I wanted to.
What a pity that such a beautiful soul was grouped along with many others, some thieves I’m sure, common criminals.
It was a graveyard for passerbys no one knew. I could never find her tombstone they all read UNKNOWN.

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