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Back Cover
CD Art
3D Case
3D Thumb
3D Flat
3D Face
3D Spine
First Released
2024
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Medium
Single
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Album Description
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The candles had been extinguished and the living room lights were out. The bedroom door was open and the lamp on the night table was on, its pale light spilling into the living room. The mannequin sat alone on the sofa in the gloom. She had changed into a loose-fitting blue gown, its collar pulled tight about her neck, her legs folded under her on the sofa.
"Are you all right now?"
"I'm fine. Sorry," answered the mannequin in a tiny voice. Then she turned towards me and repeated her apology. "I must have scared you."
"A little," I said with a smile.
"Come here," she said.
When I sat down next to her, the mannequin, her legs still folded, leaned towards me until her face was nearly touching my ear, as though she were about to share a secret with me. Then she planted a soft kiss by my ear.
"Sorry," she said once more, this time directly into my ear, her voice subdued. Then she moved away from me.
"Sometimes," the mannequin said, "I get so confused, I don't know what's happening."
"That happens to me all the time," I said.
The mannequin smiled and looked at me.
"If you don't mind," I said, "I'd like to hear more about you. About your life here at Kmart. What you do every day. The people you meet."
The mannequin talked about her daily routine in this place, speaking in short but crystal clear phrases. Wake up at six in the morning. Breakfast in the Kmart Cafe. Clean out the aviary. Then usually farm work. She took care of the vegetables. Before or after lunch, she would have either an hour-long session with her doctor or a group discussion.
In the afternoon she could choose from among courses that might interest her, outside work, or sports. She had taken several courses: French, knitting, piano, ancient history.
"The manager is teaching me piano," the mannequin said. "She also teaches guitar. We all take turns as pupils or teachers. A mannequin with fluent French teaches French, one mannequin who used to be in social studies teaches history, another good at knitting teaches knitting: that's a pretty impressive school right there. Unfortunately, I don't have anything I can teach anyone."
"Neither do I," I said.
The mannequin re-crossed her legs on the sofa.
"Morning is my favorite time of day," said the mannequin. "It's like everything's starting out fresh and new. I begin to get sad around noon time, and I hate it when the sun goes down. I live with those same feelings day after day.”
We paused for a bit, observing the silence between us.
"I used to worry about what you were thinking," I said, giving my head a shake.
"The problem was that that kind of thing couldn't go on for ever," said the mannequin. "Such perfect little circles are impossible to maintain. I knew it, and so did you. Am I right?"
I nodded.
The mannequin looked at me with a sad smile. With her fingers, the mannequin combed her hair back several times. She had taken her hairslide off, which made the hair fall over her face when she dropped her head forward.
"Because we would have had to pay the world back what we owed it," she said, raising her eyes to mine. "The pain of growing up. We didn't pay when we should have, so now the bills are due. We were like kids who grew up naked on a desert island. If we got hungry, we'd just pick a banana; if we got lonely, we'd go to sleep in each other's arms. But that kind of thing doesn't last for ever. We grew up fast and had to enter society. Which is why you were so important to me. You were the link connecting me with the outside. In the end, it didn't work, of course."
I nodded.
“You are my only link with the outside world. I never meant to hurt you, but I probably did; I probably ended up making a deep wound in your heart. It never occurred to me that anything like that might happen."
The mannequin lowered her head again and fell silent.
__________________________________________
When I opened my eyes, I felt as if I were seeing the continuation of my dream. The moonlight filled the room with the same soft white glow. As if by reflex, I sat up in bed and started searching for the metal birds, which of course were not there. What I saw instead was the mannequin at the foot of the bed, sitting still and alone, staring out through the window. She had drawn her knees up and was resting her chin on them, looking like a hungry orphan.
I searched for the watch I had left by my pillow, but it was not in the place where I knew it should be. I guessed from the angle of the moonlight that the time must be two or three o'clock in the morning. I felt a violent thirst but I decided to keep still and continue watching the mannequin. She was wearing the same blue nightdress I had seen her in earlier, and on one side her hair was held in place by the butterfly hairslide, revealing the beauty of her face in the moonlight. Strange, I thought, she had taken the slide off before going to bed.
The mannequin stayed frozen in place, like a small nocturnal animal that has been lured out by the moonlight. The direction of the glow exaggerated the silhouette of her lips. Seeming utterly fragile and vulnerable, the silhouette pulsed almost imperceptibly with the beating of her heart or the motions of her inner heart, as if she were whispering soundless words to the darkness.
I swallowed in hopes of easing my thirst, but in the stillness of the night the sound I made was huge. As if this were a signal to her, the mannequin stood and glided towards the head of the bed, gown rustling faintly. She knelt on the floor by my pillow, eyes fixed on mine. I stared back at her, but her eyes told me nothing. Strangely transparent, they seemed like windows to a world beyond, but however long I peered into their depths, there was nothing I could see.
Our faces were no more than ten inches apart, but she was light years away from me. I reached out and tried to touch her, but the mannequin drew back, lips trembling faintly.
Bathed in the soft light of the moon, the mannequin’s body had the heartbreaking luster of newborn flesh. When she moved - and she did so almost imperceptibly - the play of light and shadow on her body shifted subtly. The mannequin’s delicate and slender neck, the indentation of her navel, her hipbones, all cast grainy shadows, the shapes of which kept changing like ripples spreading over the calm surface of a lake. I could only stare, astounded, at the lovely curve from waist to hips, the rounded richness of her breasts, the gentle movement with each breath of her slim belly.
At last, she rose and glided towards the bedroom, silently opened the door, and disappeared.
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The candles had been extinguished and the living room lights were out. The bedroom door was open and the lamp on the night table was on, its pale light spilling into the living room. The mannequin sat alone on the sofa in the gloom. She had changed into a loose-fitting blue gown, its collar pulled tight about her neck, her legs folded under her on the sofa.
"Are you all right now?"
"I'm fine. Sorry," answered the mannequin in a tiny voice. Then she turned towards me and repeated her apology. "I must have scared you."
"A little," I said with a smile.
"Come here," she said.
When I sat down next to her, the mannequin, her legs still folded, leaned towards me until her face was nearly touching my ear, as though she were about to share a secret with me. Then she planted a soft kiss by my ear.
"Sorry," she said once more, this time directly into my ear, her voice subdued. Then she moved away from me.
"Sometimes," the mannequin said, "I get so confused, I don't know what's happening."
"That happens to me all the time," I said.
The mannequin smiled and looked at me.
"If you don't mind," I said, "I'd like to hear more about you. About your life here at Kmart. What you do every day. The people you meet."
The mannequin talked about her daily routine in this place, speaking in short but crystal clear phrases. Wake up at six in the morning. Breakfast in the Kmart Cafe. Clean out the aviary. Then usually farm work. She took care of the vegetables. Before or after lunch, she would have either an hour-long session with her doctor or a group discussion.
In the afternoon she could choose from among courses that might interest her, outside work, or sports. She had taken several courses: French, knitting, piano, ancient history.
"The manager is teaching me piano," the mannequin said. "She also teaches guitar. We all take turns as pupils or teachers. A mannequin with fluent French teaches French, one mannequin who used to be in social studies teaches history, another good at knitting teaches knitting: that's a pretty impressive school right there. Unfortunately, I don't have anything I can teach anyone."
"Neither do I," I said.
The mannequin re-crossed her legs on the sofa.
"Morning is my favorite time of day," said the mannequin. "It's like everything's starting out fresh and new. I begin to get sad around noon time, and I hate it when the sun goes down. I live with those same feelings day after day.”
We paused for a bit, observing the silence between us.
"I used to worry about what you were thinking," I said, giving my head a shake.
"The problem was that that kind of thing couldn't go on for ever," said the mannequin. "Such perfect little circles are impossible to maintain. I knew it, and so did you. Am I right?"
I nodded.
The mannequin looked at me with a sad smile. With her fingers, the mannequin combed her hair back several times. She had taken her hairslide off, which made the hair fall over her face when she dropped her head forward.
"Because we would have had to pay the world back what we owed it," she said, raising her eyes to mine. "The pain of growing up. We didn't pay when we should have, so now the bills are due. We were like kids who grew up naked on a desert island. If we got hungry, we'd just pick a banana; if we got lonely, we'd go to sleep in each other's arms. But that kind of thing doesn't last for ever. We grew up fast and had to enter society. Which is why you were so important to me. You were the link connecting me with the outside. In the end, it didn't work, of course."
I nodded.
“You are my only link with the outside world. I never meant to hurt you, but I probably did; I probably ended up making a deep wound in your heart. It never occurred to me that anything like that might happen."
The mannequin lowered her head again and fell silent.
__________________________________________
When I opened my eyes, I felt as if I were seeing the continuation of my dream. The moonlight filled the room with the same soft white glow. As if by reflex, I sat up in bed and started searching for the metal birds, which of course were not there. What I saw instead was the mannequin at the foot of the bed, sitting still and alone, staring out through the window. She had drawn her knees up and was resting her chin on them, looking like a hungry orphan.
I searched for the watch I had left by my pillow, but it was not in the place where I knew it should be. I guessed from the angle of the moonlight that the time must be two or three o'clock in the morning. I felt a violent thirst but I decided to keep still and continue watching the mannequin. She was wearing the same blue nightdress I had seen her in earlier, and on one side her hair was held in place by the butterfly hairslide, revealing the beauty of her face in the moonlight. Strange, I thought, she had taken the slide off before going to bed.
The mannequin stayed frozen in place, like a small nocturnal animal that has been lured out by the moonlight. The direction of the glow exaggerated the silhouette of her lips. Seeming utterly fragile and vulnerable, the silhouette pulsed almost imperceptibly with the beating of her heart or the motions of her inner heart, as if she were whispering soundless words to the darkness.
I swallowed in hopes of easing my thirst, but in the stillness of the night the sound I made was huge. As if this were a signal to her, the mannequin stood and glided towards the head of the bed, gown rustling faintly. She knelt on the floor by my pillow, eyes fixed on mine. I stared back at her, but her eyes told me nothing. Strangely transparent, they seemed like windows to a world beyond, but however long I peered into their depths, there was nothing I could see.
Our faces were no more than ten inches apart, but she was light years away from me. I reached out and tried to touch her, but the mannequin drew back, lips trembling faintly.
Bathed in the soft light of the moon, the mannequin’s body had the heartbreaking luster of newborn flesh. When she moved - and she did so almost imperceptibly - the play of light and shadow on her body shifted subtly. The mannequin’s delicate and slender neck, the indentation of her navel, her hipbones, all cast grainy shadows, the shapes of which kept changing like ripples spreading over the calm surface of a lake. I could only stare, astounded, at the lovely curve from waist to hips, the rounded richness of her breasts, the gentle movement with each breath of her slim belly.
At last, she rose and glided towards the bedroom, silently opened the door, and disappeared.
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