An irregularly updated short story blog.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Out on the porch, Pinocchio held the plastic cup between its hands and looked up at the stars. The band finished its set, and the sound of the party peaked and dimmed.
"I just want to be a real boy." It said.
The dyke sitting next to it smiled and reached out her arm to hug it close. "Me too." She said. "Me too. One day."
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