in a sunny garden, where flowers bloomed in bright hues and butterflies fluttered like bits of confetti, i played with my dolls. their porcelain faces were forever frozen in soft smiles, but i liked to make them giggle as i made them dance through the pink-strewn grass. i'd pretend they were alive, always imagining them in grand adventures.
"look at me," i'd say, twirling my doll's frilly dress. "we're on an adventure!"
i'd carefully place them in a circle and whisper secrets only they could hear. each doll had its own special place, and each day was a new story. sometimes, they would tumble from the grass, and i'd pretend they were falling from the sky, their porcelain limbs splaying out with exaggerated flair.
today, a new game began. i spotted mr. handsome—a tall man with shiny hair and a charming smile—waiting by a white van. he peered at me with twinkling eyes, his voice like sweet honey as he cooed, "come on, little one, i have cookies for you."
my eyes narrowed, not at the cookies, but at him. "no thank you," i said with a cheeky grin, "i'm busy."
i watched him through the flowers, my imagination taking flight. what if my dolls were real? i giggled to myself, imagining them doing all sorts of things to him. maybe a little trip here, a tumble there, and with each playful gesture, they made him spin and fall.
by the time i was done, the dolls lay in neat rows, each broken yet perfect. just like my game, they had served their purpose.
"thank you for playing," i whispered, brushing off my hands. because, you see, my game was to make them all go away.
