Maybe if I dig in deep enough, bleed for long enough, I’ll see. I’ll see what color sits inside of me. I’ll see it and it will be something extraordinary and I’ll show it to Zahra and say, Now you have proof that we are each one of a kind. We are made for each other. I made this for you and you are mine. And then, because the blood is rushing out of me faster than I can reproduce it, and because I cannot sew myself together with an invisible thread, I’ll die in her arms. My final masterpiece, a last act, a declaration of love, a dedication to her.
