The Doll
A doll and me
It is a busy weekend and the mall is packed. A sea of mangled voices waves past me as I walk down the long corridor. Faces of all kinds; the happy just-married couples, the annoyed parent calming down her fussy child, the lonely woman at Starbucks; they all blur together in this sea.
Along this walk, my restless eyes settle down on this doll, sitting all by its lonesome on this wall-wedge. What it was doing behind the glass of a shoe store is something I never understood. Dolls, especially ones like this weren’t something I was a huge fan of. And yet, I was inexplicably drawn towards this lifeless humanoid. Unflinching blue eyes stare back with mouth agape. The more I peered into its eyes, the more life-like it became. The beauty and the nightmare of the doll seemed like a reflection of my own emotions, radiating from the doll’s blank visage. My innermost happiness and my innermost fears surfaced as I continued to gaze into her plastic eyes.
I could see the wide-eyed childish wonder in her eyes. I could see the bewilderment at the chaotic sea of people outside. I could see the rage of being cooped up. I could see the frustration of being helpless. I could see the fear of being alone. I could see myself.
