𝐖𝐀𝐍-𝐃𝐄𝐑

## **IN PRACTICE *!!***

**pronouns:** they. them. he. him. she. her. it

**domain:** curiosity, deals, promises. contracts.

**location:** nonspecific → train/subway/bus stations/anywhere with movement, and people who do not stay. union station, greyhound stations.

**brand:** wander-crafts

**temperament:** wan. pitiful.

**accessibility:** 9/10

**etc:** the other marionettes do not like wan-der. slightly influenced by wall-e.

## **INSIGHT *!!***

someone said they saw a child selling metal wares on the corner of almeda and los angeles; union station; the greyhound terminal. they said the little boy was dear, the little girl was sweet, in circles and patience and laughing heaps; harmless. harmless. harmless. the pronouns changed each telling. the time, the place. sometimes it's the pallor of the skin, the scent of tar and transport, but one stationary detail remained; no one denied the child a sale.

7:00 pm, union station

your train is an hour delayed- there is only you, your book, and a child that sits alone just outside your periphery. you mind your business, yet as the hour goes by and they go unclaimed, your curiosity gets the better of you. you look.

the child's face is tilted towards the window. a girl? a boy? both, neither. their dirtied face is the color of the moon. you've never liked kids, but it's a shame. you mind your business. yet as you near the end- book on its last limb, binding worn and frayed , it seems the child is curious, too. something tugs your sleeve.

“‘scuse me! d’ya wanna trade?”

“what?”

“wanna trade?” (:

the cart jingles into view, shiny bits and baubles on display. you must’ve missed it earlier… yes you must have been too engrossed in your novel to see such a large, distinct collection.

“i–...”

those eyes go doe, wide and pleading; large saucers with saltwater ready to fall.

“...sure.”

a giggle, a clap, a gleeful bounce !! the transaction is quick. your stupid, tattered, on its last limb book for a ( i can give you a surprise! i can give you something special if you don’t like what i have here! ) piece of metal no larger than the cup of your palm. the coin is hot and fresh like metal just molted, and you wince as it dries the skin beneath it. “sign here!” it says, gritty nails holding out a worn, outdated receipt book. the poor thing has handwritten each one it seems, and your heart pities this child as you dutifully sign where it directs you to while giggles to itself. “bye bye! seen you soon!”

you’ll likely never come again, but you humor him-her-it as the train finds its cue. the child is lost in the fray, and it’s time for you to go.

3:00am, your bathroom.

it’s been a long day. the water is perfectly warm, and you tilt your head back to rest on the lip of the tub and close your eyes with a satisfied sigh. it is nice to be alone at last, with nothing but the eventual drip of water from your faucet to fill the silence. yet as the water cools and goosebumps raise on your skin, something adjacent (or right before) *fear* gets the better of you. you open your eyes.

wan-der is on your ceiling, sewer-water dripping out of its agape mouth and into your bath. in its hand, the handwritten receipt- and before you can scream, wan-der completes its contract.

wan-der used to do many things when wan-der wasn’t wan-der. before the crunchy jaws and pretty teeth, wan-der used to wander. wan-der wanted what others had. but now, wan-der sits on the corner of almeda and los angeles; union station; the greyhound terminal, and swallows metal bits and concrete gems. wan-der rises, and flexes its arm as out comes a little-bitty key from the flesh. it drops into its small palm just in time-

just as someone new wanders into view.

(: