• My name? My name is Ruby, Ruby Woo. Sometimes people lovingly call me Mac, it's my nickname. And what do I yearn for? My one true love. I'm all about love. Although it had been only two days for me to be placed on the shelf, it felt like an eternity to me. I kept gazing out for The One, whose one look would make me blush an even deeper shade of red. The one whose touch would make spiral waves in me, who would caress me lovingly and twist my sleek body and pry out my insides. The one who, when our lips touched, would ruin me forever, and yet I would leave my mark too. 

And that day came soon. It was love at first sight. We were both so excited to meet each other, it felt almost sinful. My love purchased me in a hurry, not wanting to meet eyes with anyone else, and then took me into the washroom. She peeled away all my layers, and when I saw daylight for the first time, I knew we were meant for each other. 

In the beginning, we had to keep our love a secret. She could not wear me openly. She told me it was forbidden, that where she came from it was looked down upon. She told me I had to be patient, and even though I could not understand, I kept my promise. And so we began our secret affair. She would hide me in different places, but every night she let me out for a breath of fresh air. She would tell me all her secrets, her wishes and hopes. 

And at last, that day came. She could not stand it any longer, the whisperings that went on behind her back. Everyone had begun to suspect us, and she had cried herself to sleep so often, with no one but me at her side. But she was going to declare her truth. She got up early that day, took a shower and prepped herself. She wore a beautiful red dress, something that would match my shade. She wore a wig on her head, coloured up her eyes and with one stroke, applied me on her lips. 

She put me in her handbag, and very slowly descended the stairs to meet her parents. I could not have been prouder. And when they got the first look at her, it felt like the whole world had gone silent. 

"Father, it's me, your son, Michael, except I don't want to be Michael anymore."

Her father stared at her for some time, then said "So it's true then. What everyone has been telling us about you." 

"Yes, it is. And it has been for quite some time. This is the real me, and if you cannot accept it, then no one else will." 

After a heartbeat, he said,

"Well then, does the name Mikayla sound good?" and smiled. 

I knew then I had done my job well.

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