By IMARA
The Dolls are watching me from their dollhouse. Every time I walk by, I can feel their omnipresent stares. They have been with me ever since I was a child, but, now that I am growing up, they seem to be fascinated with me all the more.
Sometimes I will be doing something in the next room, and I will turn around and see their porcelain faces looking out the windows of their dollhouse. And I think to myself, "They're watching me again..."
Perhaps they are just lonely, but surely they have Each other to play with, and to talk politics to, and the weather and so on. They don't need me anymore - or do they?
But why else would they watch me so diligently, and with such patience, their eyes shining just as they always did?
Perhaps - perhaps -- they know that I'd be happier if I played with them again
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