Wednesday, August 03, 2005
It was like this, you see -- What? -- For the deposition? -- OK, my name is Matthew Lovings and I work as the security guard at the Young Fashions Boutique. That's how I first met her. She didn't have a head like other mannequins, but I believed in her. There was something special about the way she modeled those t-shirts. -- What it was? The body language, I suppose. She just seemed so inviting the way she stood there, arms hanging by her side and all. After noticing her, I started going to her during my daily lunch break. I'd sweep aside that stack of t-shirts at her feet, sit down, and work through my lunch box. -- No, I never heard her talking to me. She's shy like that, being headless and all, but I started reading to her, inspirational works, something to build her up, like "The Little Engine that Could" or Dale Carnegie. She's a great listener. -- Yes, I'm sorry, I'll get to the point. -- Yes! Of course I know how to use a gun. -- Why I didn't? When the gangsters rushed into the store I sensed instinctively that she needed me. Those guns pointing and those voices shouting not to move terrified her. The emotions inside her were tearing her apart, and without a head to think it all through she started trembling on that platform and wobbling from side to side. I had to go to her. To calm her down. Those gangsters told nobody to move. They would have harmed her. I don't remember much more. I guess that's where you must have found me, on the floor with her, embracing her tightly, whispering words to her I can't recall now. So, what did the doctor say? Are they going to let me go home soon? -- I see. But it's awfully decent of you to put her in the same room with me. We need each other.