To Whom it May Concern,
Out of all the characters I’ve mentioned from my life of government service, none have been more dynamic than Penelopee S. Ridgeway. I’ve had the pleasure of interacting with her many times, but today truly showed me why she was a character worth watching. She wasn’t the one dimensional person I dismissed her as in the past.
Penelopee was layered. She was the type of character you’d want to follow through multiple books. You want to watch her smile. You have to see her cry. You need to see her grow. She was a composition of Shakespearean poetry–tragedy, heroism, love.
I honestly didn’t see Penelopee as palatable in the beginning. She was the type to speak with the cadence of blown speakers. She was a cacophony of poorly written lyrics sung with the confidence of Etta James. Little did I know that those sloppily jotted stanzas were for a song, still in the process of being written.
She had eyes of wet mahogany when I saw her today. She seemed to stare blankly into something miles away from where we were. She was in her head and outside her mind at the same time, a paradox in her own right. I found myself constantly attempting to reach out to her. Was she okay?
When I was finally able to speak to her, Penelopee exposed the deepest of her layers to me. She wasn’t sad. The look on her face wasn’t one of dismay or sorrow. She was in love. No, she was in something beyond that. It’s hard for me to verbally convey the level of affection she had reached, but the intense feeling in each word she spoke to me hinted at something divine.
She offered to tell me about her companion. Her stories were astounding, comparable to someone describing their first time kissing an angel. Her eyes lit up describing how his halo felt cold against her forehead when he leaned in. She smiled at the idea of him adjusting his wings when she wrapped her arms around him. She shivered when she talked about him taking her to heaven. And the world stopped when she told me that he made her feel…safe.
Penelopee had become something new to me when she spoke. She was no longer that reverberating dissonance of broken chords I once knew her as. She had become a beacon of hope. To me, she had become the epitome of young love, pure affection, and untainted companionship.
May fortune be ever in her favor.
Disclaimer : This is a post about real events. However names used are pseudonyms. The description of all events and incidents are slightly altered by the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events should be considered purposeful and beautiful.