Thinly Spread

Sandy spread the butter as sparsely as possible on the single piece of thinly sliced budget bread. She nibbled it, perhaps hoping that by eating for longer her body would be tricked into believing it had eaten more.

This time last year she wouldn't have been caught eating something like this if you paid her. It would have to be artisanal sourdough, and avocado probably would have been involved.

She combed her hair fastidiously, and fastened it in a simple low pony tail at the nape of her neck. The trademark messy bun would have been too recogniseable, especially now the darker colour had grown out. In any case, certain people had preconceived ideas about her, and as a result she didn't choose anything that looked in any way haphazard, as she once might.

Her clothes were simple, ignorable, but well fitted and clean. Her worn sneakers were pristine. She counted out exactly the change she needed for the bus, the coins rattling like the toast crumbs in her belly.

She locked her tiny flat carefully, though god knew there was nothing worth stealing. Zipping the key into its usual pouch inside her bag, she set off for the stop, already feeling exhausted. This was one reason she gave herself plenty of time to get there. It was also because she didn't want to arrive looking rushed or stressed. To appear perfectly organised, you had to BE perfectly organised. She also caught an earlier bus than she needed, just to be on the safe side. When she alighted, it was another short walk. She pressed the buzzer. "Sandy here. To see Wyatt, Summer and Matty."

When they let her in, she sat in the waiting area, watching the hands crawl around the clock. Joy and nerves twisted in her gut, the combination feeling a lot like nausea.

A smiling young woman in jeans and a flowery shirt escorted her to the bland room. The stickers applied to the pale walls hadn't done anything to cheer the place. If anything, they only underlined its dreariness.

Sandy realised she was gnawing at her nails, and snatched her hands away from her mouth.

When they arrived, they sloped reluctantly across the car park, the same smiling staff member with them, holding tight to Matty's hand. Sandy took this opportunity to study Karl's profile. Hoping, even now, to see a morsel of regret somewhere in his face.

The older two were aloof, but Matty at least, she could drink in. She gave him a crushing hug, fit for three, and hid her tears in his mop of hair. Blinking furiously, she was dry-eyed when she straightened up again.

She'd brought nail polish so she and Summer could paint each others nails, but the smile above that flowery shirt tightened and the woman shook her head.

Last week, Sandy had brought home-baked brownies. The staff frowned at that as well. Wyatt grumbled he wanted something to play games on, but that wasn't allowed, either. He and Summer would've been happier on their phones. Both got them out more than once, ignoring Sandy's pleas to put them away.

"Come on, guys. We don't get to see each other much, do we?"

Eventually, the staff member backed her up, and they put them back in their pockets, if only for a short while.

At the end of the visit, strained as it was, Sandy felt her heart pull as it tried to follow the three of them out of the door.

Karl paused, eyes roaming over the building. He can't see me. The windows are one-way. I'm safe. She still flinched as if burned when his gaze passed over and through her. The woman, already hurrying back across the carpark, didn't see his smirk and smug wave.

He got into the car with all the pieces of her heart, and drove away.

Demented dolls don't exist, but demented people do.