Emile always was a hopeless romantic. Always dreaming. Always doing, carving, sculpting, or building something for his partner. His lover..his eternal companion. That who he always describes to his friends.

”How gorgeous her eyes looks.” ”She looked stunning today when I saw that long dress on her..”

And they’d all just scoff or nod. Why? Because there was no partner. No stunning girl that was physically there. All in his head—and he could swear! that she felt so real whenever he would imagine her or see her in his dreams. Only he never knows what’s her name.

”She’d literally make the best wife! I think she’s pretty whimsical with her style. Something gentle and precious maybe?. Imagine how calm and loving will she be with our four kids?”

He never..never thought he’d keep imagining this long. But some days he never stopped. Never stopped carving or buildings things with wood that he thinks she would like.

And some days, he’d just get too close to giving up. His friends were right anyway. So some days he would go to meds. Meds described by doctors that would “help in his case”. Maybe even go overboard with them. But God they never worked. Never..he’d see her in every flower. In every cat passing by. In every simple pattern in daily stuff he would see. In every little carved things that would look whimsical..girly and fragile.

Until one day when he was just hanging around with his friends; one of his friends came in late with someone new introducing her to the group

”Hey guys, this is Pearl. She just moved in last month to my neighborhood!”