I put the thread through the needle and punched the needle through the cloth. I put the cloth on the doll and pulled the thread through the pieces. I sewed the pieces of the dress together, I put the dress under her feet then pulled it over her silhouette, I zipped it closed. I fit it perfectly to her shape. She looks perfect.
Outside the window, the sun was setting. Dinner time, I suppose I should eat. I walk to the fridge, it holds only two beers and a concerningly old box of pizza with only a few pieces left. I put the shoe on my foot and my foot on the ground. I bid my friends farewell, pulled the front door open, and stepped outside. Upon walking down my street for just a few minutes I encountered a man on the sidewalk with an overwhelming stench, berating me for spare change. His disruption to my innate tranquility is becoming increasingly pestiferous. What a serious thing it is to wake up in a world of such disorder, that’s why I chose to stay within the beautifully structured confines of my personal nirvana. Though occasional ventures into the repulsively tumultuous city streets can’t be avoided. I was in dire need of some groceries so I made my way to the store just a few blocks away. I wear earbuds in an attempt to drown out the city’s cries, the screeching cars and clattering chatter surrounding me from every angle, enveloping my mind in its filthy chaos.
I finally got to the grocery store, a daunting jungle filled with disease and deception. I rounded the produce aisle, I put one foot on the ground and picked up the other one. I dragged my eyes across the produce, I picked up the best looking bunch of bananas, I put the bananas in my basket, I reached my hand for the best looking tomato, another hand overlapped with mine. I pulled my hand back, my eyes darted up the hand’s arm to its face. My eyes froze on his smooth, round cheeks, his pale, milky white complexion and bright brown eyes reflected those I once recognized so well. He couldn’t have been more than 12 years old, his red hoodie was too big on him and his sneakers were untied. I know him, I thought, I knew him, but now he’s gone. His bangs rested perfectly even right above his eyebrows, they moved when he said, “Sorry lady, but this tomato is mine.” He turned and I could almost smell the youthful purity radiating from that hoodie, a gravitational scent that was so familiar, that was just like his. How much better off would he be frozen in that state of innocent perfection. I may have lost him once, but I can have him again. I can keep him safe. I can make it as if we never changed at all.
I followed him. I followed him home and the next day I followed him to school, then to
baseball practice and to the pizza place at the corner of his block before he went back home again. I knew I needed him, he was the perfect replication, even down to the mole on the corner of his lip, he looked just like him. He’s the perfect doll. I couldn’t allow a kid looking just like the one I used to have to exist in a world where he isn’t mine, that isn’t fair, only I could truly appreciate how perfect he is.
I climbed up the fire escape and went through the open window, his room was right there. I picked him up so gently, I made sure he wouldn’t wake, I knew he wouldn’t because he was really mine. When we got back home I immediately needed to get to work. He needed new clothes, a new room, toys and games, I knew everything he liked.
I put the button to the shirt and the needle through the button, securing it onto the shirt, I put the shirt onto his torso, and buttoned it up. I took the scissors to his bangs draping too much over his eyebrows and trimmed them back up to perfection. His shining brown eyes still closed and sleepy, I opened them for him. The satisfaction of having him back is all consuming, I'll keep him on a special shelf because he is my special boy. It took a little while to get everything ready, but I can finally add him to my collection.
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