A Curious Girl pt. 2

Picked up a girl at a pawn shop today who looked perfectly lovely inside of the case and I’m such a sucker for hints of distress and a girl behind glass with flowers on her dress that I paid a small fee and she came home with me.

What does it feel like to have a soul, was the first thing she asked me on the drive home. Oh, Porcelina, I’m afraid I don’t know. Whatever’s in me just feels hollow and cold.

She said that can’t be true. Maybe others, not you. A soul is really not easy to lose – And I tell her it’s chemicals, all’s been replaced by compounds and bullshit and blank outer space so no, there’s nothing for me to her. I’m plastic. I’m empty. And no girl’s a cure.

She says she was afraid to be moved from her case. The shelf was so sturdy, the strip mall so safe and the outside seemed windy and violent and wrong. But I say a case is no place to belong. I ask of her soul. Where did it go? Is there some awful boy laughing somewhere who’d know? The girl from the case smiles, I don’t.


~ by perfectionatrix on December 8, 2009.

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