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For Some Reason, I'm Being Pressured by a Nutcracker
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For Some Reason, I'm Being Pressured by a NutcrackerWhen I was little, I met a nutcracker in a red military uniform at my grandmother's antique shop. I held him in my small hands, and talked to him over and over again— Back then, I thought he was just a toy. But time passed, and one day, after I had grown up, I visited my grandmother's shop for the first time in a while. There he was, the nutcracker, looking just the same as before. "...You're still here." As I reached out to him with a sense of nostalgia, my grandmother smiled a little awkwardly and said, "This one won't sell to anyone anymore. Would you take him home?" At those words, the memories of my childhood quietly came flooding back.                           ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰ ⋱⋰                           One day, after I had grown up, I brought him—the unsold nutcracker—home with me that night. The moment the clock struck twelve, the doll slowly began to move and smiled quietly. "...You finally came to get me. I've been waiting for you all this time. you is mine." Guided by that possessive voice, the shadows on the wall transformed into the familiar scenery of the shop. Beyond the door, the continuation of a childhood I had almost forgotten awaited me. It might be okay if I can never go back. His obsession is so gentle, so teasing, and so deeply loving that it makes me think that.