Heartshaped Stain

By Anouk van der Stelt

I don’t immediately notice that you’re dead. I notice the white dress you’re wearing and the heartshaped bloodstain on your chest.

We were supposed to meet this morning, but it’s a coffee you’ll never get. My little cousin. My body is frozen and I can hardly breathe.

You’re lying on the footpath. I see your braid; it’s messy. And you’re so damn pale. I have never seen you this pale. Well, I’ve never seen you dead.

I stare at you, at the stab wound, forgetting the people watching. My little cousin. I kneel down and hold your hand.

You look pretty.