Button Eyes

I understand, you know. And I don’t blame you. I’m not one to lay blame on others, and you know it. Whoever they are, whatever they want – I’m always there, smiling politely, two shining button eyes staring ahead at everyone and anyone who looks my way.

You used to play with my hair. Sometimes, you’d get your fingers tangled in it – but I wouldn’t complain. Not ever. All you did was pull a bit. I just kept smiling. You never pulled hard enough for any of it to come out, because you loved me. And I loved you.

I still do, and I know that you love me too. I realise that it was an accident. You’re probably up on that aeroplane now, forcing Mum to search through her hand luggage again and again to find me. I can imagine you now: red faced, tears running down your cheeks, flapping your hands around as you desperately tell Mum that you have to catch the next flight back after you land at home. She won’t let you come to collect me – and that’s fine. I know it wasn’t deliberate.

Perhaps if Mum calls the hotel, they’ll be able to send me back to you. The housekeepers will find me and hand me into lost property – a pretty, well kept dolly like me, they’ll be able to tell how much I’m loved.

It wasn’t your fault that I fell down the side of the bed as you were packing your case and you missed me. I was hidden between the bed and the bedside cabinet, so you couldn’t see me. You’ll get over it, in a while – and, maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll see each other again. You’ll find me in the post, delivered by a faceless driver, and we’ll cling to one another in happiness of our reunion.

But don’t worry if it never happens. I know it wasn’t your fault. I know you don’t care for me any less. I’ll always be your little dolly, smiling politely, staring with my shining button eyes.

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