There is a microscopic person hidden in bone, who wears elegant ash powder all over her skin. Like a skeleton fairy, the reason you feel chills deep inside. She feels like moth wings to the touch, but that’s only in my mind. Like you, that’s where you are.

I try to envision you griping rusted metal fire-escapes, starving with the smell of tea on your breath. It helps to remember that you’re actual, that you have blood. That some days you might lose your appetite—that past that initial pain of hunger, there is an excitable entity named Exhilaration, normally pacified by spoiled stomachs. Like offerings, the physical word will drop bits of food to feed the temperamental being.

Water, by itself, makes the excitable Exhilaration scream. Liquids (without substance) channel its energy in the most powerful way to every cell in your body. A diet of water and tea… it’s like the universe is taking hold of your gut, your veins, your perception.

I wish you’d be something other than moth wings, I wouldn’t touch them to save my soul. It keeps them from flying.