The faceless woman

Grandfather wants to tell a tale,

So he starts from his past.

“I knew a woman once.” Grandfather confessed. “She was no one to me, you see.”

Grandfather likes his tea crushed and well dried. I watch him prepare himself a cup, as I sit impatiently. I found her discarded in the attic, among the piles and boxes of forgotten things.

“Where did I stop?”

“She was no one.”

“Ah, those days.” Grandfather smacked a toothless grin. “I used to love her. I can’t really recall.” He frowns.

It also makes me sad. Grandfather’s loss. What terrible feeling, losing his world to gain nothing. Sipping well soaked well-dried tea, trying hard to recall a no one, who meant the whole world.

He tried his best.

I couldn’t let the matter be.

She had to be alive somewhere, I thought. I bade Grandfather goodbye for a short time. He had soon forgotten his tale and was snoring in his favourite couch. I shut the door quietly.

I didn’t know where to begin my epic: I ploughed by familiar back streets and then lofty estates. “Do you know this faceless woman?”

The Carpenter shook his head, hitting the nail on the point.

The seamstress smiled sadly, pricking her thumb.

The schoolgirl stared at me disinterestedly and went her way.

The beggar at the slums would not listen to me. Wasn’t it important?

I was going about this all wrong. I asked her, “Faceless Damsel, who are you?” she shrunk on, away and away.

I tried my best.

I had come to forget.

Grandfather was long gone. I sat on my favourite couch crushing my well-dried tea leaves, proceeding to soak my leaves.

That day,

The sky was clear blue and the sun was soaking my skin, but you see I had to have my steaming well soaked tea.


“Ethan!” I flung myself against him. I kissed him senseless and he wrapped me in his safe place.



“Did you want something Sarah?” I wish I could tell him how I felt.

I’d kiss his stubbed chin.

I’d feel his steady beat.

We’d shout it on the hills side by side, holding hands.

“I love you, Ethan.”

Instead, I was crushing tea, preparing for my grand speech. My family heritage.

Instead, I was shaking and relishing his hands, standing up from my seat.

About to auction The faceless woman.

I began my speech:  “I am the faceless woman. You are the faceless woman.”

I looked at Ethan.

“I love you Ethan.” I told this stranger, Ethan.

I was her, shrinking and shrinking, asking myself, “Who are you?”

She tried her best.

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