Glass Eyes

Tears ran down his cheeks.

"How much?" he asked the woman, who hadn't left the door's opening. His voice cracked.

The sudden possibility of making money out of debris she'd already disposed of, sent a sparkle to her bespectacled eyes.

"For a hundred you can have it all," she said.

"Just her," he said, staring down on the re-assembled mannequin. "And yes, she's worth millions. I'll give you fifty."

***

Nathan had pushed all his meagre furniture to the side, creating a center space he lit with an arrangement of spotlights. There, on a low little stage, he re-erected the porcelain mannequin, glued together as carefully as he could.

Sitting on his old couch, he watched the white lamps conjure sinuous lights on the polished limbs. They played with her curves, crowning her tits with sparkling nipples.

Wherever his gaze roamed, in the end it was always captured by the face, the green, glass, condescending eyes and the straight, arrogant nose pointing to her mocking lips.

Nathan didn't wear any clothes; no cotton-and-paper receptacle needed. The threadbare rug in front of him was covered with darkening spots and blotches.

The whole shabby room reeked of rancid sperm, but Nathan didn't care.

Finally, there was nothing left he cared about, like going to work, like food, like drink, like sleep. When he woke from passing out, first thing he saw were the green glass eyes, the mocking lips, the proud stone nipples, the arrogant body.

And first thing he did, was sending his hand down to his ever-weaker erection.

"Keira," he mumbled.

***