Unreliable narrator

“Love, your video is freezing up.”

“O-O-oh. I se-”

Her voice broke up in the call.

Her face was slightly blurred now, with a reconnection buffer showing up on her nose, which was, as if sculpted by a Greek artist.

A wider smile conquered his scarred face, which was often without the presence of pursed lips.

He began writing, a slight slouch encroaching his back as he picked up the diary and black pen. His slender fingers moved in a scribble, but she found beauty in the mess that was his, and him.

His face said that he was on the verge of ending that work, when the internet did do its wonders, resurrecting itself like spiritual magic. She was divinity, after all.

“Read it out to me, now.”

“But it’s-”

“I’ve told you this before, haven’t I? Now, read.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. In an oratory voice, he began, “She really is moonflower. The octagonal glasses tinted with many blues. The teeth showing as she smiles, and the lips, dark cherry like her T-shirt, curving, enhancing the blush on her caramel skin. Her eyebrows, rested but raised ever so slightly, in that same, perfect state; never too bushy, never too timid. Oh, and her hair. Wavy like a Japanese coast. Expectedly calm, Ikigai, and in some situations, Tsunami-esque. Oh, how I wish to see my life in her eyes. How I wish she’d spend the day with me, and spend the night telling me how the day was. How silly my dreams sound, oh love. But it is you, when the day ends, isn’t it? The magic that only a child could imagine; that blurry vibrance is her. The most crucial pixel on the else-black screen that is this universe. How I’d love to hers; even if I am just a halo to her lamp, I shall be content. Perhaps I am-”

A tear dripped down her eyes. She broke into laughter.

“How petty and young, your writing are. Ridiculous. Animated. Silly. Humorous. Kiddish. Adorable. I, I love it. Do you?”

“I, I love you.”