Jelly.

"That's all I can go off
of right now;
her skin.

The kind that glowed
like jelly."

____

At an art museum on a calm night in uptown Manhattan, Trevor L. O'Connor stumbles upon an art piece so captivating, aesthetic, and powerful he's at a loss for words.

"Like what you see? Made it myself." Her words flowed out like a waterfall, smooth and crisp, absorbing into the late night air. He managed to peel his eyes away from the astonishing work to have his eyes lay upon and even more astonishing woman.

The problem was simple; after that night, no matter how many places he looked, how many times he'd type her name online, it would lead back to the same answer.

Nothing.

////

An ongoing work entered in #wattys2017