Golden Strings of Comfort

The Search for the Perfect Gift

a few weeks pass and I'm in excellent condition. Harvard has a reputation for being difficult, but it is actually rather simple. Human emotions are something I'm studying. I intend to pursue a career as a Therapeutic Therapist. I want to assist those who are thought to be unable to help themselves.

And with time passing ever so slightly Layla is quite enthusiastic for the coming weeks. her special day is coming up. my little girl is growing up. I agreed to pay her a visit when provided a chance. It's been a while, now that I think about it. I intend to go shopping for her today just to get it done in advance. I'm no pro when it comes to shopping, particularly for ladies, but it's for her birthday, so I might as well give it a chance. How hard can it be?

I'm quickly proven it can be very hard in the next few hours

I walk out into town in search of a doll. Dolls are popular among girls, right? she's turning ten years old, therefore I would assume that would be an appropriate gift. I visit a few children's stores, but they all appear to be extremely basic, all blond with blue eyes dressed in pink skirts and dresses. She's now in the double digits. She requires something unique.

That's when I came upon Mr Ronaldo's unusual toys. On the exterior of an antiquity brick building, it had painted children playing with toys but the years of it outside have left it chipped and worn down. ivy covered the building's front window making it hard to look inside and see its contents. I enter with the hope of finding something or anything really at this point. I notice a mother staring at a jack-in-the-box. It was painted in vivid colours and etched with the words "laughing jack."

I approach her, looking for some guidance. "Could you maybe help me out, miss?" I question. "I'm in desperate need of some help." She raises her eyes to mine and smiles sweetly before nodding her head. "I'm looking for a doll to give to my sister Layla for her birthday." I grab a picture from my wallet and present it to her. She responds in a kind and sweet tone. "What a lovely young lady. If you're shopping for a doll, I recommend going over there." She gestures to the back, and I thank her and proceed to the back.

I notice some fascinating dolls, but they all appear to be quite old. After a while, I notice the ballerina.

She wore a red tutu and crimson corset, as well as black pointed shoes. Her eyes were crimson, with raven-black hair. The hair was pulled back and tucked into a tight bun. She wore scarlet lipstick and her cheekbones were a rosy flush.

I noticed her name on the tag. Erma Aldrige. She was perfect. I carefully scooped her up from where she layed and walked up to the cashier. To support the doll, he handed me a stand. I payed and drove back to the campus to my dorm. I placed her on my table and snapped a few photos of her. When I glanced at them, though, it appeared as if yellow strings were tied to her and moving.

Perhaps it's just my phone, I reasoned. That's got to be it, right?