My Personal Ken Doll

His beautifully realistic painted azure eyes gazed at her from across the room, almost begging her to come closer and study their unlimited depth.

Never before had she seen such inhumane beauty, such nauseating accuracy.

He was wooden, a doll to be played with; not something to be admired as though he were a man.

Had he been carved with that sultry smirk? She was sure he hadn't- adamant that he hadn't. The expression he wore frightened Daisy, made her stomach knot.

Backing out of the room felt like a retreat, like something she shouldn't do but she had to.

She was going to return this doll to whomever had sent it, she couldn't handle its beautiful wooden eyes any longer.

She needed him gone.