The Shiny Horse.

The carpet was pink and thick. It smelt old. Whatever old smells like. The two little girls sat across from each other. One clearly older, hair falling in perfect ringlets, and one – with crocked bangs.

The youngest one sat still, leaning on her hip, as she pressed her toy horse’s hooves into the carpet. Creating a trail in front of her. She giggled as she imagined the most brilliant and strong horse, trotting through a meadow. Mane blowing in the wind, catching the sun.

Looking up, she expressed confusion at the curly hair girl, watching her slowly turn her body away, playing with her plastic horse in the air. It danced, and she neighed. She was captivated, watching the older girl play, confused to why it wasn’t with her. “My horse is the brightest, most shiniest horse you will ever see. I think she’s a unicorn!” The crocked bang girl squeaked, eyes bright, attempting to reengage the other one. She then paused, as there was no change from her companion. So she continued to fall silent, and carve out a path with her own toy horse. Separating the dense foliage and tree brush away in the fibers of the carpet.

The curly haired girl did not respond at first, allowing the carpet’s old smell to become more noticeable. Sighing, she opened and closed her mouth as if she was saving her words, until she spoke, “if she’s so shiny, my horse won’t be able to look at her to play.” Putting down her toy horse and leaving the room entirely. The crocked bang girl, eyes following her out.