I wasn't there for our funeral;
well, I wasn't there and alive, of course. In spirit, right beside her.
"So you didn't take the necklace?"
She looked at me quizzically
"Of course I did, Doll. It's safe, just like you asked." I said and kissed her forehead.
She looked toward where everyone was. "So this is it? We're dead?"
"I guess. But we're together, so I'm fine."
"You never did tell me,"
"What didn't I tell you, Doll?"
"See? That's exactly it."
"What is 'it'?"
"Doll."
"Have you ever seen yourself? Have you ever heard your name? You, my friend, are Doll."
She looked down "I'm no doll."
"Of course you are. You're perfect doll.
I love you."
But she looked so sad.
"I don't believe you." She sounded so lost, broken.
But then, I woke up.
6:00 AM
Another miserable day alive.
I know exactly why I wrote this, my senior project on Lucetta Sariane Marrialla Williams.
It's because I loved her
Because she will always be Doll.
YOU ARE READING
Doesn't Anyone Remember?
Short StoryWish I'd been, I wish I'd been a teen, teen idle Wish I'd been a prom queen, fightin' for the title Instead of bein' sixteen and burnin' up a bible Feeling super, super, super suicidal The wasted years The wasted youth The pretty lies The ugly truth...
