I’m suddenly aware of my skin A thin layer pulled over flesh and bone Like wearing tight clothes Or being engulfed by a blanket Except the sensation doesn’t fade I look for the seams, elastic, but there’s none. It’s still just me. I have this realization while on a walk with my girlfriend. She’s always cold. Shivering in the winter chill. Even with a jacket the wind is biting her. I wish I could help more. Perhaps there’s something I could do… I make a list, I gather supplies, I find a pattern. I leave silently when she sleeps. There’s still a material I need and I know where to find it. A supply that won’t be missed. I peel, I flense, I flay. Carefully selecting the pieces. I retreat to an abandoned house in the forest. Don the gloves, apron, eye protection. Harsh chemicals to remove weakness. Hard work for a better end product. A lengthy process to tan and condition. A needle to puncture. Thread to sew. Finally complete I return before the sun can rise. A box wrapped in red ribbon with a large bow. I made this for you She struggles to open it at first Ribbon pulled too tight like sutures She pulls out a knife to slice right through. Removes the lid. Paper crinkles as it’s pushed aside. The grain is fine, pores are small. A supple, well crafted leather to keep her warm. She puts it on and spins around A perfect fit for her amazing figure, Second skin that fits over her first. The cold won’t bother her. She smiles.
