The Death of Sally Sue
At the age of five I had no friends outside of my family or the television. I did not want to confide in my family but I definitely did not want to confide in the TV so I created a friend of my own.
This friend, as all good imaginary friends do, had a name. This one was named Sally Sue and she was beautiful inside and out. She had gorgeous eyes and a near perfect smile. Her hair was of some length and color that I don't remember and don't much care to. She loved each and every living creature on this earth with the entirety of her kind, gentle, and most beautiful heart, even the mean ones. Her only weak point was that she was a molecularly sized human being who lived on the downstairs toilet.
We had many talks but not many adventures due to her size and being permanently affixed to the toilet. At one time I even asked her to marry me, but she said no. (To those of you who are wondering: Yes, at age five I had the ability to say no to myself.) Yet, as with all imaginary friends, the fri