She came into my life like a cooling breeze on a hot day.

I remember that. . .

About most else, I speak from a faulty memory

here in this house of stucco and wood where I am so awfully alone.

But I seem to recall Beauty?

Something to do with the Little People?

Something about a Fairy.

Beauty was a Fairy?

And she came.

And she cooled.

And then she was gone.

I do alone really well.

Really. Awfully well.

Well. I used to.