honeydew melon


arguably, Santini makes the best ice cream in Portugal. on Friday, the 10th of February 2012, I went to Lisbon to register at last the copyright for the album I wrote and made for you, Inês. on my way to Rossio station, I decided I’d buy you your favourite ice cream: Santini’s honeydew melon. I bought a half-litre styrofoam box, which would keep the ice cream for an hour. I caught a taxi and instructed the driver to rush to the hospital, for I didn’t know how much longer you’d be alive. the driver understood, and screeched and honked us across Lisbon traffic, and then like a mad bullet down the motorway. in under 20 minutes, he got me to the hospital, where I ran down the endless, freezing hallway towards your ward, your bed no. 12. and found you asleep. alive. the bed not nightmarishly empty. I awoke you with a dash of honeydew melon, and you sucked on it, breathed it in, a sunbeam in your fading mind. my tears blended in with the flavour. there was so little of you then. you never awoke after that. two days later you died. they put you six feet under, where my atoms shall join yours one day. sooner for you than for me.
I’m writing this while sucking on the remainders from the styrofoam box. the last taste you savoured in your life.


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