Mattias
[ There are no miniature ballerinas running across his floor the next morning, nor has he been tied up by Lilliputians in the night. His nighttime vision feels like a strange dream. Almost. ]
7. Living Doll (Pt. 1)
August 21, 2027
Mattias
[ He opens the music box with some trepidation, but the ballerina stands in her usual pose. He compares her against the one in his memory—was her expression set that way, were her fingers angled just so? He's half a mind to shout BOO and see what happens, but ends up consigning that thought to the realm of the unhelpful. Instead, he leaves the clean paperclip in the basin of the box and closes it, with a lingering thoughtful look. ]
Mattias
[ There are two possibilities: that the music box dancer is a living creature who's been scurrying about his flat, or that he's having a mental breakdown. Unfortunately, neither is an acceptable reason to call off work. ]
Mattias
[ He goes through his usual morning routine, but this time, he's very careful about where he steps. And when he leaves, the stack of bicarb soda stays where it is. ]
Pandora
[ It’s quiet. She checks to confirm that the bedroom is empty, and knocks the lid open. ]
Pandora
[ Under the soft light of morning, she turns the clip and the sparkling horse over in her hands. The stranger gave it back to her, so it must be a gift. Maybe now he understands what should and shouldn’t be in her box. Before she leaves, she props the clip upright against the corner. ]
Pandora
[ In the kitchen, the orange boxes are exactly where she left them this time. She bounces up the chair with newfound vigour. ]
Pandora
[ On the countertop, she has a sip of water from the faucet, and munches on more bread with less enthusiasm. It’s gone a bit stiff since the first day. She daydreams about the lukewarm vegetables. Hopefully the stranger will cook another interesting supper. ]
Pandora
[ Full and sleepy, she finds the towel drawer, squeezes to the back, and wraps herself up in a soft cloth. This isn’t so bad, she thinks, drifting off. Even without Lysander here. At least she has food to eat and soft places to sleep, and no one is interrogating her. ]
Mattias
[ He arrives home earlier than he usually does. Unusually, he has a warm brown paper bag in tow, from a calculated detour on the way home. ]
Mattias
[ Are there signs of activity in the kitchen? A little splash of water by the sink, yes. A cracked drawer, which he doesn't recall opening. ]
Mattias
[ Inside the bag is a fresh scone, which he makes sure to crumble a little before leaving it enticingly on the counter, not far from the stack of boxes. ]
Mattias
[ Though the stove clock says it’s not even tea, he announces to the flat at large: ] You know, I believe I shall have a nap.
Mattias
[ All the pieces in place. he retreats to his room, and lies down to wait. ]
Pandora
[ Wide awake, she sits up straight, ears pricked. The stranger put something on the countertop, just above her head; she heard what sounded like crinkling paper. A warm, mouthwatering smell wafts into the open drawer. ]
Pandora
[ There are no more sounds from the bedroom. She shuffles onto the rumpled towels and pokes her nose over the rim of the counter. ]
Pandora
[ A brown paper bag lies on its side. Next to it, a new bread, smaller than the loaf, has been set on a plate. ]
Pandora
[ She hauls herself onto the counter with a mighty huff. Bits of the bread have crumbled away from the whole. She takes one the size of her fist to taste. The bread is very soft, and a little sweet. It’s delicious. She scarfs it down with both hands. ]
Mattias
[ He waits. And he waits. It's an effort to keep his eyes closed, when every tiny noise and creak from the neighbouring flats sets him wondering. But there's no sign of the errant ballerina, no tip-tap of footsteps. Was he being fanciful after all, then? He leans over and opens the lid. ]
Mattias
[ Inside the box is a paper clip and a tiny pair of pointe shoes. ]
Mattias
[ He's sorry to say that despite being buffeted about by the whims of time every day of his life, his sense of magic has shrunk. He believes in "psychics" and "fey" but not dragons, or unicorns, or pixies. Despite the whimsical theory he's been building, he can't help but stare at the confirmation. If she's not here, then... ]
Mattias
[ His curiosity can stand it no longer. He shuffles out of the bedroom. ]
Pandora
[ The sudden creak of noise from the hallway startles the crumb from her hands. Her drawer is too far away! She dives into the mouth of the paper bag. ]
Mattias
[ He takes a careful step into the main room, mindful of the floor. A few more steps. The largest of the crumbs has vanished. More importantly, the bag wiggles when he looks. ]
Mattias
[ He can't see inside it from where he stands—not unless he were to pick it up. ]
Mattias
[ Instead, he puts on the kettle. ]
Pandora
[ The stranger’s enormous shadow crosses her bag. She shrinks away from it and steps back. The bag responds with an earsplitting crinkle. ]
Mattias
[ There, just there! Was that a tiny noise, or just his imagination? He shuts off the heat just before the water boils, and finishes making his tea. ]
Mattias
[ The teabag he leaves on a small saucer next to the bag, tea and milk seeping out in a puddle. His back to the counter, he sits at the kitchen table, steam warming his chin as he performs nonchalance. ]
Pandora
[ His shadow passes over her one more time, and then the kitchen is silent. The shard in her chest beats hot and fast. She pads to the edge of the bag. ]
Pandora
[ Between her and the towel drawer is a dish of brown liquid. A distracting, earthy scent emanates from it. Tea? She lifts her nose and sniffs. Lysander gave her tea in a thimble a few times. With milk it’s especially good. ]
Pandora
[ She curves her eyes around the lip of the bag. The stranger is still here, but his back is to her. ]
Mattias
[ This time he’s sure of what he hears. A tap, a soft crinkling, just on the edge of his hearing. He takes a sip of tea, otherwise still. He feels like a discount Orpheus—afraid he'll bungle it if he looks. ]
Pandora
[ She sets one foot out of the bag. The man doesn’t turn. Her other foot follows. She creeps across the countertop, towards the safety of the open drawer. ]
Pandora
[ Her calf brushes the saucer of tea. The herbal aroma floods her senses. Feet planted, she twists her torso to stare at the shimmering liquid. The stranger hasn’t noticed her yet. All she’s had for the last few days is bread and water. If she is quick and very, very quiet… ]
Pandora
[ She kneels, braces her hands on the warm rim, and blows silent breaths at the steam. ]
Mattias
[ The back of his neck prickles. Gently, gently, he lifts the spoon from his mug, angling the curved underside so that it reflects the counter behind him. ]
Mattias
[ A tiny figure in a gauzy tutu crouches by the saucer. ]
Pandora
[ The tea is hot, but her finger doesn’t burn when she touches it. She cups her hands and scoops out a wobbling droplet. Careful not to spill any on her tutu, she bows her head and drinks. It warms her all the way to the tips of her toes. ]
Mattias
[ He holds his breath, watching the little ballerina drink from the saucer like a woodland fairy sipping from a stream. It's as sweet as it is strange. What is she? Where did she come from? ]
Mattias
[ Lost in thought as he is, the spoon wilts in his hand, knocking against the rim of the mug with a loud ting. ]
Pandora
[ The sound chases all the warmth from her body. She gasps and cranes her neck over her shoulder. The drop escapes her fingers and splashes to the countertop. ]
Mattias
[ He makes startled eye contact with the elfin face in the reflection. ]
Mattias
[ Very softly, without turning around: ] I-It's alright. I won't hurt you.
Pandora
[ She lurches to her feet. The drawer is within darting distance. Her wobbly legs refuse to move. ]
Mattias
[ Floundering. ] Hello. I'm Mattias. I live here.
Mattias
[ He hesitates, watching her posture in the reflection, and softens. ] ...Are you okay?
Pandora
[ Mollified. The stranger isn't a stranger, but a "Mattias." His furry face is hidden from her, but the smear of reddish-brown is visible on the back of the spoon. ]
Pandora
[ Whispering: ] I'm l...lost.
Mattias
[ That stands to reason. He already knew that the music box belonged to the running man—just not how precious its contents were. ]
Mattias
[ A moment's pause, and he turns, slowly, to face her. ] Yes. There was a blond man who ran into me. Our b-bags got mixed up, and... well, now you're here.
Pandora
[ So it was an accident? The horrible thought occurs to her: what if Lysander doesn’t know she’s here? ]
Pandora
[ She wrings her sticky fingers. ] Is Lysander coming?
Mattias
Lysander... that's your f, your friend?
Pandora
[ A tremulous nod. ]
Mattias
[ His brow furrows at the forlorn little figure. ] I'm sorry, I don't... know if he's coming. We only spoke for a moment.
Pandora
[ She stares at him in horror. His fuzzy face blurs. ]
Mattias
[ Hastily. ] But—! I'm sure we'll find him. Listen, what's your name?
Pandora
[ Lips pressed together dubiously. ]
Pandora
... I'm P... Pandora. [ An audible sniff. ] I live in my box.
Mattias
[ Relieved. ] I see.
Mattias
[ He turns fully around, resting his arms on the back of his chair, and gives her a kindly look. ] Listen, Pandora... would you like something to eat?
Pandora
Yes, please.
Pandora
[ A big tear rolls down her cheek. She hides her face in the crook of her elbow. ]
Mattias
Oh...!
Mattias
[ He rummages in the drawer for an old tea towel and tears off a frayed edge, which he hands to her. ] There, there.
Pandora
[ The encroaching hand startles her into silence, but he only offers her a bit of towel. She tugs the scrap from his fingers and hiccups into it. ]
Mattias
Now, how about I make us some scrambled eggs, does that sound nice? And we can talk about how to find your Lysander.
November 20th, 2023
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