She's never truly been alone, but that is how it feels. Her wooden boarders and flaking paint sag with loneliness that threatens to swallow her whole. Her arms stretch with her longing, tug at anything she can. Dragging and shrieking are about the only things she is good at. She drags herself as well as anything that holds even the slightest promise of alleviating the pain she feels. Nothing has.
But then she sees him. The man with purple hair carrying a blue rose. He looks enormous towering over her from her place on the ground, majestic as he makes human movements and speaks in a langue she almost pretends she can understand. It only takes one glance for her to know that he is the thing that can take her loneliness away. So, she does the only thing she can; she reaches for him with her hands, mouth agape and shrieking the only way she can. Though she's never seen herself, real terror flashes over his eyes when he sees her. She scuffles across the floor, chasing him through mazes of twists and turns. Always reaching.
Finally, after what feels like hours, his ankle has found its way into her grasp. She tugs. His screams shake her core, but she continues, dragging his body along with her own back to her spot on the wall. Once there, she notices his face looks different, paler and lifeless. Scattered along the floor are wilting blue flower petals. She props him against the far wall so that she can watch him and he can watch her. But he never does watch her, only stares at a fixed spot on the floor unfocusedly. No matter how long she watches him he does not make those human movements or sounds, just sits still as a doll.
She thought he would cure her loneliness, but watching him somehow makes it worse. Why does he feel so far away? She reaches out with her arms, shrieks the only way she knows how, feels her paint begin to run. She touches him. He does not move.
Still she reaches.
