bedtime story

yep. a very short and sweet bedtime story.

  He sighs and puts down the pen, making a fairly big noise that almost startles the midnight sky, and obviously, himself. He looks towards her - still asleep like nothing happened. Grand. He leaves his desk and sits next to her.
 
  She's sound asleep. Not a single quiver from those thick lashes. But she's also silent ("like a real lady", he thinks). She's perfect, even too perfect, as if every bit of her face is meticulously polished by the best artisan in the world. Well, she's perfect if she's a porcelain doll, but as a human it feels a little peculiar. Not a single wrinkle and not a single freckle. But it's just the perfection that he loves - he gazes at her with affection like how an artist scrutinizes his masterpiece. Beautiful. He reaches for the beauty and caresses her face. Again, smooth like porcelain. She doesn't react. "What kind of dream is she having now?" He thinks, and smiles.

  The clock strikes twelve. "Goodnight lovely", he whispers and lays a kiss on her forehead. He puts her head back in the refrigerator, casts a last glance on her perfect face, and closes the door. "Tomorrow I'm going to buy you a glass jar and some formalin," he says to the refrigerator.

  "Because winter is coming."

Author's Note

Thanks for reading.