Bad Dolls

by Rachel Harrison

That was when I realized if someone you’re bored with tells you something compelling, it really doesn’t matter what it is.

That’s when I realized if you’re looking at someone that you’re supposed to love and you feel alone, you have a big problem.

When you’re young with someone, when you share those formative years, the bond is specific and sincere.

Why award memories superlatives? Wasn’t it enough to have them, to have lived them? Why play favorites?

I stared down at my hands, my open palms unscathed, and hoped that someday I could forgive her for what she was willing to sacrifice and that she could forgive me for what I wasn’t.

“What can I say?” she said. “We’re a couple of bad dolls.”

“What was I supposed to do? You were talking some Toy Story shit.”

The weather started to change. Summer slouched into autumn, the trees exposing their skeletons, leaves shriveling at their feet.