I watched half her face melt like ice cream on a hot summer day.

She was probably in shock, because all she did was cry – silently, with a sob, here and there.

I’m sure it must have hurt, especially when half her face became bare bones exposed to the sharp, relentless wind.

She might have tried to tell me something, to run, to save myself. Perhaps to tell her family she loved them, and that she was sorry she wouldn’t be coming back.

But, I didn’t catch any of it.

I was busy catching her melting skin puddling in my palms cupped together, frantically searching for a container, any container, to collect her liquid body. She would make a beautiful mannequin, one not hard and plastic, but soft, and… real.