She was a tall and robust woman.
I like to think she was kind and stately.
I imagine her sitting cross legged at the outdoor table at the church picnic, wearing an outdated and worn, blue floral dress.
In life she dedicates her body to science.
She dies and a young man cuts her in half.
He occasionally worries that he alone, is inadequate.
The young man is learning about the body, the body of the proper woman.
The woman shows him her heart she used to pump blood, nerves which she used to feel, she shows him the physical space she used to make love.
She whispers in his ear, two simple truths and, an unimportant aside.
Worry is almost always wasted energy.
Fears are almost always unfounded.
Size does not matter.