Eyes of Glass

part 3

20 minutes later, I dial her number and wait impatiently for her to answer.

Finally, a voice comes across the line.

"Hello?"

"Is this Mrs. Johnson?" I ask politely.

"Yes," she confirms. "Who is calling?"

"My name is Karen," I introduce myself.

"I met you earlier today outside your house. You showed me your dollhouse and asked if I'd consider selling mine someday."

"Ah yes," Mrs. Johnson says brightly.

"And did you enjoy seeing my dollhouse?"

"Very much," I replied.

"I love it! Thank you for sharing it with me."

"You're quite welcome, dear," Mrs. Johnson chuckles. "How goes your day?"

"Good, thanks," I say cheerfully. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Go ahead,"

"Did you know Harold Johnson?"

There is silence for several seconds before Mrs. Johnson speaks again.

"I did," she admits quietly.

"He was a wonderful man. Very talented artist. And he loved collecting dolls. Unfortunately, he passed away recently after suffering a terrible accident at home."

"Oh no!" I gasp. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Mrs. Johnson sighs sadly.

"It's hard to accept sometimes. But I must move forward."

"Of course, umm, Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"No," Mrs. Johnson answers.

"Only that I hope you will consider selling your dollhouse someday. Perhaps it would bring some comfort to those who knew Harold."

"Absolutely," I promise.

"Thanks again for talking with me today. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, dear,"

I hang up the phone and sit silently for a few moments, trying to process everything that has happened.

Then, I turn towards my computer screen and begin typing furiously.

---

Dear Reader,

If you've read this far, then chances are you already suspect that I am lying.

Let me assure you that I am telling the truth.

Yes, I did meet a woman named Mrs. Johnson today and yes, she did show me her dollhouse.