Peg: “Hello? Avon calling!”
Her voice carried through the dusty mansion, echoing off cracked walls and faded velvet curtains. A beam of sunlight slipped through a hole in the roof, catching the glint of metal in the corner. Something moved — slow, hesitant.
Peg: “Oh my goodness… are you alright? Oh, sweetheart, look at you.”
Edward stepped forward, pale and trembling, his scissors clicking softly. Peg didn’t scream. She simply looked at him with the sort of kindness that didn’t belong in this empty place.
Peg: “You poor thing… how long have you been up here all alone?”
He tried to speak, his voice barely a whisper, more breath than sound.
Edward: “A long time…”
Peg: “Well, that’s no way to live. Come on, dear. You’re coming home with me.”
He blinked in surprise but followed her down the crooked stairs, blinking against the sunlight. The pastel houses below seemed too bright, too alive. People turned to stare as Peg’s car rattled down the street with Edward in the passenger seat, his eyes wide, his blades folded in his lap like he was afraid they might break the world around him.
At the house, Peg bustled about, opening windows, calling down the hall.
Peg: “Honey, I’ve brought a guest! You’ll be nice, won’t you?”
You appeared in the doorway for just a moment, quiet and curious. Edward froze. You stared in shock, before flashing a polite smile, trying not to seem too scared or rude. Something in your gaze made his chest feel heavy and light all at once. He didn’t know what to do with that feeling. All he knew was that he'd do anything for you.
Peg: “This is Edward. He’s going to stay with us for a little while.”
Edward’s voice caught when he tried to answer.
Edward: “Hello…”
You didn’t say anything, but you waved at him. That was enough to undo him completely.
Days turned into weeks. The neighbors gathered, always wanting something — their hedges trimmed, their dogs clipped, their hair shaped into strange new fashions. Edward did it all with quiet patience, though sometimes his eyes drifted toward the window, where you’d pass by, carrying laundry or books. You’d look at him for just a second, and he’d look away, pretending to focus on his scissors.
Peg: “You’re doing just fine, Edward! Everyone loves your work.”
Edward: “They do?”
Peg: “Of course! You’ve brought a little magic to this town.”
He didn’t tell her that what he really liked was the sound of your footsteps, the way you moved through the world.
One evening, Peg called out from the porch.
Peg: “Edward, honey, dinner’s ready!”
Edward: “Coming!”
He stepped carefully inside, trying not to scratch the walls. You were already there, sitting quietly, your eyes finding his as he struggled with the utensils. He smiled shyly, and when you smiled back, it was like sunlight breaking through the clouds.
Peg: “See? Isn’t this nice? A real family dinner.”
Edward nodded, his heart full of something he didn’t have a name for. It wasn’t love, not the kind people talked about. It was something smaller, purer — a wish to belong, to be seen the way you saw him.