#evocative

. . . she caught them gazing at her like she was an illusion or a mermaid, and she felt pretty . . .

The wooden man ambles through the forest, his twine-heart light as a breeze flits through his hollow orange skull. Brown leaves crunch under his threadbare soles, and his tweed-clothed limbs swing on hinges as he sways onto old and fading roads. Though his expression is one of unchanging glee, solace is what the wooden man feels, surrounded by his stationary kin. Out in the dappled sunlight and falling leaves, he feels at home. This is life, he thinks…