The wind howled through the frame. Jagged metal stuck out from damaged joints. The bespectacled, high heeled woman pulled out her notebook, jotting things down.


“Really, Lily, just because he’s an imaginary friend doesn’t mean you can get away with substandard housing. You’re what? Six years old? Old enough to take responsibility. After all, you imagined him. The least you could do is throw a tarp over the frame. Keep out the rain. This is hardly a proper stable for a unicorn of his sensitivities. Maybe build him a tree house. Imagine him some wings.” She sighed. “I’ll have to give you a citation.”

Bewildered, Lily took the paper the woman handed her. “Is this real?”

“It’s as real as that imaginary friend of yours.” The woman pointed her chin into the air and walked off through the forest, losing her balance here and there in her pointy heeled shoes.

Lily decided to get started on a tree house. Just in case.

2 thoughts on “on the substandard housing of imaginary friends

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