She grinned to herself as she sowed a sinister smile onto the doll's face, stitching buttons as eyes. She held up the little doll, the deep brown curls sitting over the hazel buttons, a red flannel sitting snug on the stuffed fabric, dark blue fabric laid on the legs as jeans with black stubs as shoes. She was satisfied with her work, and carefully put the doll into the woven basket, putting on her long black cloak. The smell of pumpkin and wet leaves fills the chilly air as she stepped outside, heading on her way to start her mission.

Loud music could be heard from the large two-story house. Most people were dressed up, but Johnny didn’t bother, he just wanted to get drunk and have fun. He stumbled out the front door, eyes frantically trying to look around for Sam who left the party a while earlier. A huff of air left his chapped lips, creating smoke in the dark night sky. He enjoyed the smell of alcohol drifting out of the open door.

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The old woman slowly makes her way over to Johnny, her back stuck in a hunched position. She reached him soon and he just stood and stared at her as she reached into her woven basket, taking the handmade doll out of it. She reached her wrinkled hand out with the doll wrapped beneath her fingers. He takes the doll and looks at her again, too drunk to care that a stranger just handed him a handmade doll. She walks away again as he shouts a “thank you” after her, hoping she knows how grateful he is.

He soon forgot all about Sam, heading back to his own house with his newfound present. He plops down onto his cold bed, not even getting under the blue covers, drifting away with his ‘little me’ in his hands.