She Was Fading

Sick.

Sometimes Delilah looks sick. Like the kind of sick that doesn’t go away. She holds things like they could crumble at her touch.

Like she’s toxic.

She looks at things like they could fade away at an instant. She observes the world with wonder every day. It makes me feel guilty for not doing the same. She doesn’t say it out loud, but I know Delilah believes every day she is alive is a miracle. She’s an old soul, I already know. She’s lived more than just this.

Lately Delilah has been looking even sicklier. Her gold hair has faded into an awkward copper with dirty blonde in it. It’s also thinned out and she cut it up to her shoulders.

She doesn’t like to move much anymore either. Delilah says she’s fine, but that’s what she always says. I agree with her because when I do, I think she believes it a little more too.