He gently set the last eyelash in place, then declared the beautiful doll complete.
“Awake, my daughter,” he whispered, and he breathed on her.
Her chest rose as she inhaled sharply. She exhaled slowly, her eyes opened and focused on her creator and she smiled.
“Hello,” he said. “Welcome to your life.”
Every ounce of her was tinged with joy when they were together. They were so in tune they could even think each other’s thoughts. She would ask and he would answer. He would guide, she would follow. She explored, he showed her newness every day.
She kept choosing to stay with him.
But she slowly began to lose interest and wandered away. She looked over her shoulder and could still see him, but distantly. She could still hear his muffled thoughts or could she? Perhaps they were her own.
He shouted for her to come back, but she kept walking further and further away. She fell on the path and skinned her knee, and where he used to swoop her right up and heal her, he couldn’t reach her anymore.
She had left him one tiny step at a time.
Then one day she realized she was all alone. The loneliness had come on so insidiously she hadn’t perceived it.
She hadn’t intended to turn her back on him, to run away. Could she go back? Surely he didn’t want her anymore or he would be here.
But she couldn’t find him. All she had to do was ask, and he would be closer. For each step she could make back to him, he was able to get much closer.
By this point she couldn’t remember if she had known him at all, or if she had simply heard others talk about him. But she knew one thing for sure. She didn’t want to be alone any longer.
She looked at her smudged and torn dress and scuffed shoes. She tried to run her fingers through the knots in her hair. She made her hands into fists, knitted her brow, and took the tiniest of steps back toward him.
He met her right there.
Over time, the more steps she took to him, the more she remembered. And the more she learned of him, the more she experienced for herself.
And she heard his voice and thoughts again, just like before.
It was never perfect, but then again, it was never meant to be. But it could be as good as she made it.
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