f***o & Citra

Citra & f***o

Udah di edit

She can't see much from where she is. a handful of the grey buildings' flat roofs. the streetlight glare that encircles the parking lot. One tall skyscraper can be seen in the distance, though it is so far away that she cannot discern its shape or the number of floors. Despite its height, she can still tell that it is very tall. or whether or not there are balconies. or if it is an office building or if people live there. It might even be a demolished structure. She can only make out the outline, but she enjoys the mystery. It provides her with food for thought.

She observes the sky outside as it changes from pink to purple to dark. The area is still crowded around her. A person sweeps the floor. The surfaces are cleaned. Last-minute instructions are shouted, but as time goes by, fewer and fewer voices can be heard until only two remain. "f*****g hell, I'm wrecked," the first responds. The second one responds, "Yeah, me too," as the first says, "I'm going to smoke a joint and go into bed." The first person then asks, "Can you get the lights?" The lights are all turned off.

It's only f***o in the bakery. The fridges flash white and yellow in the dark, and the only sound is the hum of the freezers. Little red lights in the ovens gleam like ravenous eyes. She used to spend her nights watching them slowly turn on and off before realizing that the flashing wasn't an indication that the ovens were actually alive.

Simply put, the red dots are lights.

When f***o realizes no one is returning and the area has been quiet for a while, she begins to descend off the shelf. Between the two enormous sinks and the line of ovens, she descends the ladder and falls on the white tiled floor. Even though she is already familiar with the bakery, it still doesn't seem like home. She must always move quietly to ensure that no one can hear. Nobody can see. She only ever leaves her house after dark. It's difficult to remember how long she's lived here. Is it days? Weeks? Months?

Though she makes an effort to not think about it, whenever she isn't paying attention, memories from the past creep up on her. a blanket with a "Frozen" design. In a can, meat ravioli and tomato sauce. Citra.

Citra is all she can think about.

Fizzo and Citra . Citra and f***o The problematic pair, the unbreakable unit. Always arguing, but also the greatest of friends. With Citra's parents, there were trips through Kent by automobile. Dartmoor tours by foot. visits to the neighborhood Toys'R'Us When Citra spent the night cradling f***o because she was afraid of sharks after seeing Jaws on her dad's computer. Tight. f***o feared she would c***k under the pressure. However, there were no sharks in the morning, and they both felt good.

Citra attended school with f***o. She picked up counting from Citra. She was present when Citra had to spend the night in the hospital after having her tonsils removed. She was present when Citra broke her arm after falling from the tree. Every day she was there. every evening. She adored Citra, and she reciprocated the love. Furthermore, nobody could possibly contest that.

Although f***o like the bakery, she feels lonely there. The bakers are friendly with one another, but they don't notice her. They shouldn't, either. They appear silly birds as they wander around in their white uniforms and blue hairnets, yet if given the chance, they would discard her. She is aware that she doesn't truly belong in a bakery. She is not a fool.

The bakers create gingerbread guys every evening. kitty-shaped cookies with jam-dot eyes. sweet mice in vibrant pink. rabbits with cream-colored yellow ears. f***o initially didn't take it seriously. But then she thought of that movie. This involves a wooden puppet becoming a real boy. One of Lily's favorites, it.

That's it, she thought.

What I must do is this.

Slides across the spotless, white floor. Similar to ice skating, a la Frozen. She moves toward the large refrigerator and opens the door with the help of her head and tail. She leans over to the top shelf and leaps inside the enormous Tupperware container. The cookie dough inside shines in the bright white light. She digs a claw into it, and it feels soft. Elastic. almost similar to skin She lops back onto the counter after scooping out a sizable portion—as much as her articulating arms can support.

Citra loved Jurassic Park so for her seventh birthday, her parents had bought her f***o. She’d come to her in a cardboard and plastic box with the words DINO SHOWDOWN written at the front. Citra had ripped the plastic apart and held f***o in her arms. She’d said: “She is perfect, I will call her f***o". And from then on they’d been inseparable. Until the day in the supermarket.

Fizzo remembers that day.

She’s played it over in her head.

Again.

And again.

She has experienced it so frequently that she isn't even sure what actually occurred or what she imagined, but the memories still hurts.

It is warm. f***o's tail is being held by Citra. They select breakfast cereal bars. The one with chocolate and yoghurt is their favorite. Citra also desires to purchase candy. the ones that extend between the teeth like a long snake. But Citra's father refuses. We still have some candy at home, so no sweets. Citra occasionally acts out by throwing a fit. She sobs. She yells. Shoppers stop pushing their carts and pause to stare and shake their heads. Dad of Citra becomes upset. He strikes her. Citra sobs more loudly.

Fizzo is thrown to the ground as she stamps her feet on the ground. Under the cereal display, f***o lands. Citra is there, her eyes are green but also red beneath the tears, and her face is red. Then she witnesses Citra's father dragging her out of the store while holding her by the hand. They enter through the entrance and leave immediately. Under the cereal boxes on aisle 17, where Citra flung f***o,is still where she is.

Fizzo waited for them for a while that day, but they never returned. No announcements concerning a missing dinosaur were made. Nobody went searching for her. Citra seemed to be unconcerned, but f***o knows that isn't the case. Citra is concerned. Citra 's father is the one who abandoned her. Her father made Citra go. Unlike Citra. Dad of Citra.He was the reason f***o spent days hiding under aisle 17. without a movement without any audible noise. Simply listening. and keeping an eye out in case they resurface. f***o was aware that she couldn't stay there when they didn't, though. Children were always present. What if one of them discovered her and grabbed her?In order to be prepared for Citra's return, she needed to find a place. or a secure location. She then explored the store before discovering the bakery. In order to be prepared for Citra' return, she needed to find a place. or a secure location. She then explored the store before discovering the bakery.

Raptors live in packs, and f***o had never slept by herself. Darkness frightened her. At least now that she works in the bakery, bakers are usually around her.

the breads, too.

the animal biscuits, too.

She returns to the counter while holding the dough in her arms. Although it's difficult, she can go quickly and take her time. She still has a couple solid hours. She removes a little piece of baking paper off the roll and places the cookie mix in the center of it. f***o has used play-doh throughout her life, much like all the other toys she had owned as a young child. She is an accomplished sculptor with an eye for form. She makes excellent noodles and can create a caterpillar that is quite convincing. She also recalls the tale of the puppet boy. She is aware that these things are probable. Just make a strong enough wish for it.

Every evening, f***o creates a brand-new dinosaur cookie before the bakers show up. At first, it wasn't right. Either the head was too big or the tail was too long. However, she improved, and now she is confident that if she can design the ideal shape, it will eventually succeed. She does her best, and by this point, her dinosaurs are perfect. Every night, she spends hours carving the head, legs, and paws. As much information as she can include. The monster is then left behind together with the other animal cookies that are ready for the oven.

None have awoken as of yet. However, she is aware that it is only a question of time, and tonight, her cookie is lovely. It already appears alive. She marks the tail's stripes with her left claw. She adds an eye by taking a circular piece of brown sugar from a container. It returns her smile. She gently pulls it onto a platter with the other biscuits using her teeth. The bakers will arrive back soon.

She returns to her shelf and turns to face the window. One star is present. She rubs her paws together, sits on her tail, and prays to the star since she is aware of the legend.

She enjoys imagining the tower even though it is too dark to see it. She even occasionally believes Citra resides there. Citra is asleep now because it is late. Her room's walls are a light yellow color, but at night they appear gray. A bookcase with books and toys is present. a dresser with bright red drawer pulls next to the bed. f***o is in Citra's arms as she peacefully drifts off to sleep. f***o'sn't there, though. So, with whom does Citra sleep? Is f***o still there or has the plush dolphin been changed?

No.

The bakers arrive at 5 a.m., whipping cream and sugaring pastries while conversing loudly. As one of the bakers slides the tray into the oven, f***o keeps an eye on her dinosaur. A fire is burning brilliant orange inside. She approaches on tiptoe to observe.

She is aware of what happens to broken toys. They experience a death within. They snooze for ever. To Max, Citra's old Bear, it happened. When he was left alone under the bed for too long, he lost his identity and vanished inside.

But Citra is still thinking about f***o. She hasn't been able to return for some reason, which causes f***o to worry frequently. She hopes nothing negative has taken place. She's not sure what prevented her from returning to retrieve her, but occasionally she imagines that once the other dinosaur arrives, they'll leave the bakery together. They'll search for Citra. She doesn't recall the car ride being that far from the house, so they can't be that far away. And f***o lacks the courage to travel alone; however, if there were two of them, she may.

She will, too. She will make Citra incredibly happy.

As she keeps a watch on the oven, the dough gradually transforms from beige to gold, with all of the animal tails and ears rising. She doesn't move. She looks. Her cookie, which is in the center of the rack, is lovely. It will happen, it will awaken, and it will happen any minute now.

What if it doesn't, though? She doesn't want to sleep for a very long time. to gather dust on a shelf until she is discarded. Sometimes, when the fire is burning, she visualizes moving toward it. As she draws nearer, she feels the heat of the grill. She is aware of what would occur if she dove in.

The cookie tray would be above the top rack where she would land. The heat would be suffocating inside. Her tummy and paws would adhere to the grill. As she melted onto the rack, she could feel it. She would soon be unable to support herself since her forelegs would be gone. She would slide her snout between the grid and release when her belly began to melt as well. Her body would liquefy and move up and down the grid, along the rack, and along the bars. Green plastic would also slowly drip onto the animal cookies.Maybe Lily's father would take her to the grocery store the next day. They might also buy cookies. They would feel tiny bits of hot plastic under their tongues when they got home and chewed through them. Like Citra's eyes, it was green. Citra could then recall that moment. But just how long has it been?

Weeks?

Months?

Years.

Although f***o makes an effort not to, the nights have become a haze. Now how old is Citra? Does she still engage in toy play? She shouldn't, however, think that way. The waiting Citra. Everything will return to normal if f***o can just figure out how to get there. There'll be more automobile journeys. There will be additional walks in the countryside. There will be more trips to Toys R Us. And she won't have to spend any more nights alone. But she turns back to her dinosaur. It continues to sleep as the minutes go by.Fizzo detects tears in her eyes. Of course, raptors don't cry, so she doesn't. But she tucks her paws in and lets her tail fall.

She gives it one more second. It will begin to move after one more minute.