Play with me

ㅤ She was never alive. An artificial life form, created for a single purpose. That purpose had long since been achieved, albeit in an unexpected way. It had dissolved without a trace into the unconscious. At the same time, life vanished from the human doll. "Play with me." A little girl with crimson hair nudged a limp, life-sized doll. Two light purple tails dangling at its sides swayed slightly. The wondrous doll's hair never tangled. Its glassy eyes never blinked. But the girl continued to question, as if the doll could answer. "Look, I've woven a wreath for you." The girl enthusiastically placed a wreath of wildflowers on the doll's fair head. She tugged at its hand again. "Let's go! Play with me." The doll was silent. The girl stopped pulling. She ran away. Little Chery Lhant was named after her great-great-grandmother, Cheria. More than once, her mother told bedtime stories about the adventures of her great-great-grandmother and great-great-grandfather. And… the empty doll. Quick, light steps — Chery was back. She was holding a bowl of porridge and a spoon. "I know you just don't have the strength. Eat some porridge and you'll feel better. It's delicious, with strawberries!" The little one didn't like every kind of porridge, but she absolutely loved oatmeal with fresh milk and fresh fruit. So, she decided to share. The doll didn't open it mouth. It didn't even eat a spoonful. It only got her lips dirty — Chery had to wipe them with a napkin. Chery had never seen the doll speak or move. She only smiled occasionally — or so it seemed. "Come on, play…" she sounded almost offended. "You were playing with mom." When Sophie stopped, no one knew what to do. She wasn't human. Life and death didn't exist for her. Sophie was simply broken, and no one knew how to fix her. So they left her sitting in her room, a motionless doll, hoping for the best. For a high-tech future. Chery didn't know when this future would come or what it was. Perhaps it was a tomorrow that never came. Or perhaps the very next second would bring the future — and Sophie would wake up. 'But she's not sleeping,' Chery thought. 'Who sleeps with their eyes open?' "Play with me…" it sounded quieter. Chery came to Sophie every day, hoping that "maybe tomorrow" would be "today". But tomorrow was always tomorrow. With each today, more and more dust settled on Sophie. Less and less often adults came to brush it off. Someday Chery will stop coming too… When she doesn't want to play anymore. ㅤ