Through a Toy Store Window

by Loïc Sablé

Another day and I’m back where I belong, motionless and silent in that glittering shop window, surrounded by colorful toys and shimmering clothes. Again last night, I dreamt that I was walking down the street outside, holding on to the hand of a person I couldn’t identify. As my spirit settles back in my body, among these toys I’ve never been able to touch, my senses awake to the world around me, and they are once again a source of joy and sorrow. I adjust my price tag, then adopt the posture that has been imposed on me.

My eyes scan the passers-by in front of the shop, watching every face, every smile, every glimmer of hope. I see kids, free to run and play and explore the world as they please. My heart always misses a beat when the door opens and the bell chimes. The comments of customers floating in the air, the joyful laughter of children entering with their parents, the whispers of discussions about gift choices, all these sounds reach my ears like fragments of a reality that is forbidden to me.

It is worse when they are gone, leaving behind them a mixture of fragrances, adventures and emotions. I can smell the sweet aromas of the pastries they held in their hands and the scent of delicate, flowery perfumes. When will I stop being a spectator, living only through the sparks of others’ lives ? The suffocating heat of the sun streaming through this window is oppressing me. My shoulders are getting heavy and my tired legs ache from the weight of my captive existence.

I get the feeling that I’m being watched, though no one stands out on the street. What does this invisible observer think of me? Do they feel compassion or disgust ? I’d like them to want to help me, talk to me and play with me. How can I convince them that I’m the product they need ? And then, even if they were to free me from this shop window, I’d just be chained to them instead. That is preferable to this mundane existence, though. What should I do? The last time I looked a person in the eye, it made them avert their gaze and hurry away. I should just continue to look down with blank, empty eyes. But the intense feeling of this unknown person’s stare makes my limbs shake and my mind race. I lift my forlorn eyes, seeing no one but feeling their presence, unable to keep my lips from mouthing:

“Please, set me free.”