The phone woke her early. She hated when this happened. Was it a real call or just some crank with a wrong number. Or worse, could it be someone trying to sell her something? A different thought occurred to her, it could be someone from the media wanting to ask about last night. Well, that was too bad, they would have to wait until she was good and ready to get out of bed. She pulled the covers back over her head.

It rang again. Great, not only was someone calling at the wrong time, but they weren’t giving up. Well, that was just too bad. This morning was her own time and she wasn’t going to let anyone spoil it. It stopped ringing and she rolled over and tried to get back to sleep.

Another ring. Well, whoever it was, they were persistent. She got out of bed and moved towards her bathroom. It didn’t matter if someone was calling to tell her that the building was on fire. She wasn’t going anywhere until she’d had a shower and fully woken up.

After she was done, she went to get dressed. The phone wasn’t ringing anymore. Whoever it was had given up. It must not have been terribly important then. She picked up the phone and noticed that the calls were coming from the Temple. That wasn’t good. Oh well, someone probably spilled some wine last night and they’re freaking out about it.

It was time to go in anyway. Lydia called for her car to meet her downstairs. She’d pick up a muffin or something and be on her way. As she got in, she decided to avoid the news on the radio and listen to some light music. If today was going to be hectic, and the calls suggested that it might be, then she was going to enjoy as much peaceful time as she could.

The car pulled up to the side of the temple and she looked out of the window. As luck would have it, the timing was perfect. The building across the way was glimmering in the refracted light from one of the crystals. She just sat in the back of the car and appreciated it for a moment. It really was beautiful. Yes it was prideful, but my God, she had done so much for this city.

The moment passed and she walked into the Temple. One of the curators saw her right away, “Where have you been? We tried and tried to reach you!”.

“Yes, well, I decided to sleep in this morning. What possible emergency could have happened. I half expected to pull up and find the Temple in flames.”

This had been an attempt at humor but it fell flat with him.

“You’d better come this way.”

For the first time, Lydia noticed a handful of policeman and other official looking people. They were near the wing with the paintings. There was a crowd gathered and that’s where the curator was dragging her. The people noticed that she’d finally shown up and one by one they all began staring at her.

She stopped. “Well, what is it? What’s happened?”

The crowd parted and she could see a leg lying on the floor. It was connected to a body. As they gave her more space, she could see that body was lying in a pool of blood. Next to it was a knife, the obvious murder weapon.

A part of Lydia’s brain noted the rusty color on the floor and couldn’t help but compare it to the painting above. The painting had rich green tones and the colors complimented each other well. Whoever it was had the good sense to die in the right spot. She was immediately embarrassed by this thought.

Who was it? The way the body lay, it was hard to tell. She shifted around to get a better look at the face. Well, she should have figured it out from the clothes. It was the Bag Lady.

She looked at the nearest policeman. “Who killed her?”

Someone rushed up to her with a piece of paper. “There was a note. I think you should read it.”

To Whom It May Concern:

Why is Beauty important to me? I don’t really know. I see it everywhere in my life and it never makes me feel good or uplifted. It only reminds me that no one likes me or wants to spend even one second of their life with me. I see some guy with some stupid model and I know that he’d never ever talk to me if he could help it.

I’ve come to your Temple everyday. I’ve seen the beautiful things you want to show. I’ve looked at the pictures of your beautiful people. It all makes me sick.

They could all be stupid and shallow and not care about anyone at all. Would that matter to you? Not if their cheekbones were at just the right angle. Not if their nose was cute enough. Not if their eyes said just the right thing. The worst person in the world would still get into your good graces if they just had good enough abs or a plunging neckline.

Well, that’s enough. I was somehow unfortunate enough to be born into a world that is this screwed up. I’m not pretty enough for you, much less beautiful. I won’t lower myself with surgery or makeovers. You’re not worth it.

What does Beauty mean to me? It means that I’m not good enough. The world belongs to the painted whores. Well, go ahead and have it. This will be one less piece of dirt for you to avoid.

There was complete silence while Lydia read the note. After she was finished she looked down at the dead body. Then back at the note and she read it again. Back to the body and she just stared for a moment. She looked as if she was trying to put everything in order. They could see her struggling and then something broke.

“This wasn’t about you!”

She nearly doubled over such was her rage. She straightened and then sank to her knees. Softer now, “Why would you do this to us? What did we ever do to you?”

Lydia collapsed into sobs. The Temple workers quickly pulled her away and up to her office. They weren’t quick enough and both of her knees were stained with blood.