Once upon a time there lived a paper girl in a paper house. Every morning she painted on her paper face a smile and waltzed around for the world to see. I lived next door to the Paper Girl and watched her stumble to and from.

The Paper Girl loved to sing so I heard beautiful melodies floating from her house. The birds sighed when she started to sing, content to cease their tunes for awhile. Life seemed to melt when she opened her mouth.

But one day, the melting made an avalanche. A Paper Boy moved into her house and they formed a life. She no longer stumbled, but danced as if a marionette. And she seemed happy. But the noises coming from the house changed.

I heard no more singing, only tearing. Like the sound of crying or paper being ripped, I couldn’t tell the difference. The birds screamed their loudest, trying to drown out the sorrow billowing from the house.

So I tried to help. I waved when the Paper Girl walked past…she slipped into her car. I left a nice note on her door…the Paper Boy stepped on it when the tape gave way. I touched her hand to give her my warmth…a little part of her shriveled and tore.

I forgot. If she’s made of paper, my skin dissolves her being. The more I help the more she’s hurt. The more I give warmth the more she burns. What am I supposed to do, completely helpless?

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I retreat back to my house and focus on the birds. If I listen very hard, their shrieks even sound like her songs. What am I supposed to do, anyway? I couldn’t reach her if I tried. So I don’t.