My friend

Snitha had been a great friend since the time I was this high.

We used to talk about ‘everything’ saying ‘nothing’. Silly jokes, stupid stories that I had made up — these must have bored her at times. But Snitha was very considerate — she never ever said a rude word to be. She was always in good humour even in difficult times. She always had a smile on her lips, her eyes open to everything around her. Her cheerful smile never failed to calm my nerves.

She was always there supporting me. I shared my deepest secrets with her. She was a perfect friend.

However, one day my wicked sister snatched her saying that it was abnormal for me to make a doll my friend. I know she was right. I have made excellent friends — no dolls, all living persons, but I miss Snitha a lot for she was the last doll that I ever owned.