Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

DollhouseHector dabbed the smallest bit of glue onto the edge of the toothpick and touched it to the bottom of the gargoyle statue, securing it to the coffee table.  He stepped back and observed the effect on the makeup of the room, imagining himself entering for the first time.  Did the gargoyle draw your attention to the other gothic and romantic flourishes artfully placed throughout the space, or did it steal all of the attention itself, leading a viewer to overlook the delicate lamps, curved architecture and ornate feet on the wonderful leather couch?  He would need to sleep on it and return with fresh eyes in the morning.  As he began to gather his supplies and clean his workspace, his eyes involuntarily went back to the dolls Michael had sent over the day before.  They were supposedly the same size as always but they seemed too large, almost grotesquely outsized to his eyes when he first opened the package.  They were a bit out of scale – their hands seemed large and ungainly when positioned upon his delicate side tables, and their feet took up so much space on the rugs that you could barely see the intricate designs he had woven into them.  Michael swore that the problem was on his end, that he was making furniture and rooms that were too small for the average doll in his quest for more and more detail, but Hector disagreed.  The dolls seemed mawkish, caricatures – they were certainly not the kind of people who would inhabit the caliber of home he was building.  It was as if people from tract homes in Texas suddenly found themselves in a country home in Connecticut – they would be out of place, obscene in that setting.  He stroked one of the doll’s hair and noted the slightly too chunky blonde highlights.  These were not the kind of people who would live in the house he was building.  He would rather it sit empty forever.

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