When you were little, around 5 maybe, you found something you needed more than life itself. The months leading to your birthday were spent in the toy shop window where you soulmate rested. You had named him Rupert. He was big and fluffy and every young girl’s dream. You father promised he would get it for you for your birthday. You would visit Rupert everyday on your way home from school and watch his clean, white fur shine under the florescent lights. When he disappeared from the window, you were heart broken. You no longer had a friend to tell secrets to. When your birthday came you held onto the sliver of hope held in your father’s promise. You believed they would come visit you together. During your party you asked your mother when ‘daddy and rupert were going to come.’ The smile she had plastered on her face faltered, and you watched as the adults gave the pair of you looks of pity.

“Daddy and Rupert can’t make it this year, honey.” She told you simply. You cried more than you should have on your birthday, but you were so convinced your father would bring Rupert to your party. He promised. You felt angry, betrayed, hurt, but soon those emotions drained to emptiness. Why hadn’t he kept his promise?