The Dress Made of Moonlight

She was unlike anyone I had ever met, so surreal in a way that made me question if she even belonged to this world. Like the moon, she carried a bold presence even from a distance, and somehow, without trying, she left a mark on my life. She wasn’t easy to approach, and maybe that was the point, good things rarely are.

Her beauty was undeniable, but it wasn’t just what could be seen. Her smile didn’t merely brighten the faces around her; it reached into you and your own emotions.  It almost felt unfair like who gave her permission to be this perfect? She moved among ordinary people, yet I couldn’t shake the thought that she wasn’t one of us. There was something divine in the way she carried herself.

Her skin had the softness of something unearthly, as though it had been touched by light itself. Her lashes framed her eyes with such elegance that every glance felt deliberate, as if she was choosing where to leave her magic.

When I asked her name, she said it simply: Affiong. Esther.

Moon and star. Afystarlet.

And in that moment, I understood she wasn’t just wearing the dress of moonlight.

She was the moon.