We called her ‘Toriaʼ, he called her Vicki
She was his favorite, we were the run-of-the-mill
She was his angel, we were the demons
She was the white, we were the black
She was the up, we were the down
She was the moonlight in the dark, we were the sunset with a lack
In other words, she was as impeccable and flawless as the whiteness of a dove
She was the reason why the word ‘perfect’ exists, or at least that was what he told her
And naively, she clung to every single one of his words without suspicion
But who could blame ‘Toriaʼ?
He had the perfect set of white dentition and the sweetest tongue to hearken to
He was as tall as a giant and as strong as Samson
His skin was as clear as day and he had the beauty of a gazelle
And just as much as we were enthralled by him, ‘Toriaʼ was equally captured and fascinated by his charm
He was all she bragged about; making it her job to mention him in every discussion and chat.
Soon, everything about her changed and it was known to the whole village
Her clothes, words, friends, intellect, conduct, even her walking and eating styles became modified.
She walked like the grounds sprouted thorns at every turn, the height of her shoulders were like Olumo,
She talked like it was an obligation to use her teeth and she carried a cup like it was the faeces of a young child
She even began to hate the fact that we still called her ‘Toriaʼ and not Vicki
To her, we were just obsolete, ancient and naive girls with the conducts and traits of more primitive times.
We would have given anything and everything to be in her shoes or at least to wear one of her new ones
But we had our spirits and ancestors to thank that those wishes never came true and that those dreams were never actualized.
Because it ended in tears.

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