The soul was torn when I got it. A bloody great rip right down the middle. Like someone took two big fistfuls and yanked it apart. I laid it out flat on my lap and sewed the raw edges back together. Tiny silk kisses sealed the wound. The puckered pink scar vanished. It was beautiful again. As good as any new soul! We all know that love can heal anything, but I still rested it, gave it time to be. Then one day I picked the soul up and held it, as close as the air. It crumbled against my cheek.