She stood small and shiny, on the windowsill overlooking the little pear tree. Little brown streaks of an old-forgotten bar of chocolate, licked at by a tiny pink tongue ran all over her fan-like skirt. Her head was tiny and pretty, marked with a “KERS”, with the first “SNIC” neatly folded in metallic waves over her wrapper-skirt. Someone had loved her mild chocolatey taste many many years ago, and had decided to immortalize that through her flimsy, shiny existence. Pig-tailed head, twisted neck, crumpled face and fan-like skirt.
She stood leaning against an old photograph – a browned, old picture of a little girl with bright eyes and a black curly mop on her head. She had mud and paint streaking her tiny skirt, just like the paper doll. Little curls fell over her brown forehead, looking into the bright pools of her curious, smiling eyes. How pretty that face was, staring silently out of the old photograph!
Their little skirts flapped in the wind, their hair tickled their foreheads in little playful giggles and their feet pattered on the mantelpiece in the blue night. They stood there, one not knowing the other. Leaning on each other, angel faces, brown streaks, pig-tails and wide, smiling eyes. Memories of chocolate, paint, mud.
And then the wind blew hard through the branches of the little pear tree. She fell off – like a little paper doll in the wind. And lay there – quivering and shaking on the floor. In pig-tails, chocolate and streaks from a time long forgotten.