By the checkout counter was a shelf of Porcelain fairies, stringy hair sewn into their heads that teased down puffed sleeves and onto a sundress made of fake polyester petals. Each doll had an intricately hand-painted face, with a carved nose and little lashes made by the thinnest brush strokes. Their smiles were barely upturned, giving them a wise, knowing look about them. When checking out, Ruby noticed a purple fairy glittering behind the cashier on the opposite end of the counter.
"Can I have that one?" asked Ruby, pointing to the doll, who remained regal and dignified despite her isolation.
"That one's getting thrown out," said the cashier, reaching for her, "She's missing an arm. See?" He dangled the fairy, her one dislocated arm jiggling as the translucent petals over the skirt of her dress caught in the warm sunlight. Ruby imagined the creature being tossed into a dump, fed upon by bugs and engulfed by molded food and plastic waste. She imagined her being crushed in the dumpster truck, porcelain ground to a fine mist, her wise lips shattered and crushed. She began to cry, sobbing as the employee balked, discomfort and guilt growing on his face as he begged with his eyes for Ruby's mother to intervene.
"Just because she's not all there doesn't mean she can't have a home," she wept. The employee's face softened, moved by the little girl's stern love for the object.
"Sorry," her mother laughed apologetically. "She's an empath."
"No, it's okay. You're right," said the employee, his face softening, "Why don't you take it? Free of charge." He handed her the fairy.
"Really?" asked Ruby, relief overtaking her. The doll was safe. The doll was safe and had a home.
"What do you say?" her mother urged.
"Thank you!"
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They drove by inflatables on dead grass and snowfalls of spiderwebs, yards with corroded Fisher Price slides and posed skeletons. Pumpkins that had already begun to age wore swollen gray faces, snarling at the start of the holiday season. Ruby held her prize, lacing her fingers through the fine strands of hair, her palm crushing the petals.
"Are you going to give her a name?" Her mother probed.
"Her name is Lilac," Ruby declared.
"That's a pretty name," said her mother, "It suits her."
"I know," said Ruby, "She told it to me." All the way home, she caressed the sweet violet strands.