Story # 10: "Reassembling Romilda"

Okay, so fair warning here: This is possibly one of the most twisted tales that I've ever written. And that's saying something, because I have penned more than my fair share of warped stories over the years. I don't know where I get these terrible ideas, but once inspired I feel compelled to write them nonetheless. That being said, there's something sickly sweet in the undertones of this story. And I managed to work in a bit of dry humor to lighten the mood. I'm not sure that it worked, but still... Enjoy?

REASSEMBLING ROMILDA

She never intended to jump. She didn't tell me that in so many words, but I could see it in her eyes. Speaking of which, there's one of them now.

She always had such pretty eyes – a shade of blue that seemed almost unnatural. I doubt if I'll ever find the other eye. So much was compromised in the fall. Now, everything that matters is broken. My heart, her neck, the whole lot.

If only I had gotten there sooner. Perhaps I could have said or done something to keep her on the ledge and eventually return her to my loving embrace. But I was too late, and the gusting winds were too strong. She'd chosen to live, but the cold front had overridden her decision.

And now I'm left – alone – to pick up the pieces. That one there looks like a toe. She had the cutest toes I've ever seen. Not so much anymore. She always hated it when I tickled her feet, but I simply couldn't resist. Maybe one last time, for old time's sake. I'm sure she won't protest.

Rest in pieces, Romilda.