Porcelain Doll

Gorgeous, stunning, but more effortlessly so than any young woman I’ve ever seen. She walks with that worried look, highlighting the circles of graying skin underneath her eyes. Her skin is white like milk, her lips red and those eyes perfectly lined. It is obvious she is real. To think that she may be cosmetic is just not a possibility. Her hair is the shade of brown that glows golden under the sun. Mine, black, that always does stay just black. She braids it carelessly, letting it fall onto her shoulder. She may be a little rough around the edges but she is beautiful.

I watch in awe as she talks. Her words are meaningful and intimidating and that doesn’t surprise me.

What does surprise me is the lack of envy in my own eyes.