Cravings, and Other Stories

The Selection (Standalone)

Beth pressed her face against the window, the tip of her button nose making an oily imprint upon the glass. Beyond it was a breathtaking view of the vast turquoise sea, bathed under the chalky glow of the morning sun, but Nora doubted that her daughter was at all interested in the sight.

She's doing this on purpose, that girl, Nora thought with utter contempt. Thank the heavens, the facility was still empty at this early hour.

"Stop that," she scolded her daughter through a clenched smile.

A brown eye peeked through a curtain of brassy curls. "Sorry," came the mumbling reply.

And to think that it was her birthday, of all days! That girl should be so grateful she was getting the present she was getting. Not all girls were so lucky, nor were all their parents so considerate. Even if it cost her every last penny in her purse, Nora made sure they booked this place, and that their appointment was on the dot. Just in time before classes resumed.

Clackety-clack went her heels upon the crystallized glass floor. The creamy scent of coconut and vanilla, mingled with fresh jasmine, permeated the air as they walked past a row of artificial palms. The smell, while pleasant at first, soon grew cloying.

Beth kept dragging her feet. The scowl on her face deepened as they approached the receptionist's desk.

No amount of fixing is going to get rid of that attitude, thought Nora.

"Ah, Mrs. Quinn. Welcome." The receptionist, Nora saw, was an androgynous-looking young man—almost mannequin-like. He wore a gray suit with a mandarin collar, and his slicked-down hair had a plastic sheen about it. "Says here you have an appointment at eight o' clock."

Nora nodded. "That's right."

"However, it seems that you haven't made your selection yet. Our online catalogue has an extensive variety of—"

"We'd much prefer to make our final choice here, thank you very much."

"I suppose it's your first time here." The receptionist glanced once at Beth, an eyebrow quizzically raised. "Ah, your daughter...is that right? Age?"

"She's, ah, just turned fifteen."

"I see."

"Just yesterday, if I may add."

"Ah, yes. I see."

Nora suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. Thankfully, the receptionist said nothing more. He reached underneath the desk and produced a thick book covered in fuschia-rose fabric.

Stamped on the cover was a bold, black monogram of a "C" enclosed inside a diamond. "Property of Chrysalis Studios," read the fine writing underneath the monogram. Nora flipped a few pages, wished the receptionist wouldn't keep his eyes so glued on her and what she was doing. It's not I'm going to tear a page off or anything.

Page seventeen showed the picture of a buxom young woman with smooth ebony skin. She was smiling, displaying a perfect row of pearly-whites.

"Oh!" Nora gasped. "Come and take a look at this one, Beth."

"I'm afraid she isn't available," said the receptionist. "There's been a surge of demand for that particular model. For that reason alone, I wouldn't recommend her, either."

"Oh," spoke Nora, with much disappointment. She flipped a few pages and wet her lips. "How about her? Doesn't she look like your best friend Emilia, though?"