Porcelain Doll
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Porcelain doll. Blond hair, every strand carefully and lovingly shaped, then glued into place. Face, carefully made up to look as lifelike as possible. But they can’t hide the pallor of death. It pervades everything about her.
Unreal, this isn’t happening.
But…it is.
Dead, blue eyes never again to open. No more vibrancy. Never again to be alive.
People, all mourning, in black. She didn’t deserve to die.
I can’t see. If I didn’t see it, it didn’t happen. The age old sentiment. But it did happen. I couldn’t stop it. I failed her.
Why couldn’t it have been me?
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