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She looked at the dolls. Whatever had happened, they’d seen it all, but they weren’t about to tell.
Mark was cleaner but he looked like exactly the type of guy who’d go to a Waffle House at three in the morning after shooting a haunted puppet.
You don’t wear the puppet. The puppet wears you.
“Because you’re real, Pupkin,” Louise said. “And nothing real can last forever. That’s how you know you’re real. Because one day you die.”
She cried because at last it hit her that time only moves in one direction, no matter how hard we wish it wasn’t so.
