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Yesterday.
Rain outside.
Was looking for winter boots.
Stumbled upon a box.
Dusty, smells of old cardboard.
💔 Inside—OLIVIA 💔
A plastic doll with one eye.
I poked the other one out at five, looking for her soul.
-Hi- I whisper.
Olivia is silent.
Staring at me with her single eye.
I remembered promising her we’d be great ballerinas.
And now I sit in an office.
Calculating reach and KPIs.
Drinking cold coffee.
-I'm sorry- I tell the doll.
-For what?- a voice inside asks.
-Because the ballet never happened-
Because pink pointe shoes were traded for comfy sneakers.
Because I became "serious."
Put Olivia on the shelf.
Next to the cactus.
Let her watch.
Maybe at least she’ll remind me that inside, that girl is still alive.
The one who believed that the soul—it's in the eyes.
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