she rose from her seat on the underground and left a small rectangular label on the floor – it was charcoal grey with a bright yellow section upon which was an infinitesimal amount of tiny writing – it was her soul given form – lost property did not know what to do with it – the soul ticket shouted, cried, laughed, sang, and whispered incessantly when they placed it on the shelf amid the other lost articles (a set of propelling pencils; a small blue rucksack; a German translation of the Da Vinci Code; a set of instructions on how to reach Mudchute) – the workers hoped the label would be claimed soon – that a graying body would realize it’s soul was missing and would, like a homing pigeon, seek its inner self out and come and ring the bell -