I look at my puppet.
Oh how amazing and beautiful she is! Her light-green olive eyes reflect even the smallest amount of light. She exhibits the most stunning half-creased frown -- wait, not a frown but now a smile. A gorgeous light-hearted smile that can make even the most guiltiest of sinners pure. Her silky blonde hair rests on her perfect saffron dress, twinkling, gleaming, from the moon's fluorescent shine. I gaze at the marionette again. Her beauty is suddenly too much for me. I grab her smooth hair; I let it run through my fingers like water and then begin to smell it. Her scent lingers in my nose with a pure, precious aroma of citrus and flowers. Flowers. It reminds me of the day I first laid my lucky eyes on her. It was a calm, summer night and there she was, standing on the street, alone, defenseless, abandoned. How could someone leave such a rare diamond behind like that? So I took her while the scent of freshly grown daisies arose from such well-landscaped gardens and pleasured my nostrils with their pungent aroma. She was mine and she still is. I stop smelling her hair, and I begin to place it in my mouth just for a taste -- just a small taste. The texture, the flavor, it becomes so...so...euphoric and pleasurable to me! I stop once again. I push her away from me and let her delicate, little body rest on my bed for a good night's sleep. Happily, I gaze out the window and observe. Observe the trees rustling because of the weak gusts of wind; observe the vibrant, colorful flowers in my garden, and observe the scattered remains of people having their last walk before the day has come to an end. I see a man walking. There is also a cute couple walking by, holding hands, laughing, smiling. There is a family walking by. And oh look! There is a lonely woman. I stare at her. She somehow seems to attract my attention. She is very intriguing, interesting; in fact, she is rather beautiful. Beautiful. Just like a puppet.
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