growing ugly

There I was that night, seeing him in a photograph wearing a purple scarf. It wasn’t the same purple scarf I had worn all throughout college. It was quite different. His scarf was more pallid and coarse. Though it actually looked softer from a certain angle. His face had changed a bit as well. It was rounder and also bigger. Back then, he looked like a gap-toothed porcelain doll. Now he’s just a boy with a big face. A feeling of satisfaction snuck up on me, taking over my eyes and then my lips. I couldn’t believe how he had changed – his beauty used to be next to only that of a girl. Well maybe it was the rare tenuous type of beauty that when touched, crumpled open like a ball of used tissues. Tissues that can't leave a maudlin girl's wet hands.