She was a brunette with shoulder length hair and long dark lashes. And she had legs for days. She wore denim overalls over a red checkered long-sleeved shirt (impractical in the tropics but she never complained) and the cutest pair of red felt boots. I woke up with her every day, and slept with her next to me, tucked in under the thin sheets.
When my asthma would kick in during holidays and birthdays and every time I was stressed, she was with me. I told her stories and put her in stories, usually having her go to the grocery store and back, and where she was so loved no matter what she looked like (brunette with blue eyes) or said (she was the quiet type though). I loved her to the moon and back and she knew all my secrets, especially the sad ones.
And then one day she was gone.