This week's writing assignment is to describe something from memory. It's going to be short, as my mind is operating under a considerable layer of fog these days!
Her hard, puffy cheeks are frozen into a permanent smile. I try to comb her hair, but the yarn-like strands are too thick to even pass through the comb. My heart sinks in disappointment -- hair-styling is one of the things I'd been looking forward to most. Her body is soft, pliable; stumpy arms and legs jammed into a pinafore. She smells like a foreign combination of plastic and baby powder. I sit her down on the bed with the rest of my stuffed animals for company. Ten pairs of blank black eyes follow me around the room, and I flee to the safety of humans.