To Whom It May Concern,

I’ve long been known as a collector of fine miniatures, especially dolls. My day job as an investment banker has only ever been a means to look after my collection and its myriad needs, grateful as I am for my success.

I suppose a psychologist would have a lot to say about what my love of my doll collection says about me, about my relationship with my parents, about Annie and Christine in each others’ arms in that coffin built for two where I laid them to rest after the stillbirth. But I have found clarity and peace in my dolls, so who is anyone to judge?

While my collection is as broad and as deep as I have been able to make it, a few items have long since stood out. The ’03 Bechenbacker, Melodie. The ’17 wartime Umberto, Francesca. My 1897 handmade Gauche-Stillwell, Jessica, the absolute gem of my collection. Who could forget the porcelain beauty of Agatha, my Krinkov from the last pre-revolution batch in December 1916? And of course, the three dolls who are of such rarity and quality that I have never publically disclosed any of their details?

They have spoken soft words to me on lonely rainy nights, kept me company from dusk until dawn. They are my true family, my true friends, the only ones who ever have or ever will understand me.

Therefore, I hope you will understand why I have had to remove myself from all other spheres. I hope you will understand why there are seven gaps on the shelves of my collection. And I hope you will understand why, even after the passing of a thousand thousand years, we will never be parted.

V. Dolen Loveless

Inspired by the song ‘Love of Seven Dolls’ by Hiroki Kikuta, released under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

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