A Hug

A Symbolist Short Story

Do you believe it? Some people only crave a hug. They have never received a simple hug in their entire lives.

It is “a genuine hug,” “a hug without lies,” “a hug without profit,” or “a hug without exchange for money.”

I suppose that although the law of impermanence always applies, the hug of human affection is immense and eternal.

***

The plastic doll had long, spiky, curly hair and big sparkling eyes. It ran to find someone to confide in.

Filled with eagerness, it knocked on house number one: “Is anyone home? Could you hug me, please?”

The old man opened the door. He was as tall as a pole. As he walked, he tripped on the steps. He spoke loudly, “Hey, little doll! So beautiful as you are, yet why do you lack love? I’ll sell you a hug. Give me ninety-nine cents.” The doll was silent. It thought to itself, it made little sense. It looked up at the man, then ran away, nearly losing its slippers.

When it arrived at house number two, it met a young man. He looked at it from top to bottom and said, “Hey, cute little doll! You said you needed a forehead rub, but you’re so beautiful, how could I dare touch your forehead? Because I’m a painter, the wall paint will be all over your forehead.” The doll’s face fell. It turned around and walked away.

Then it knocked on house number three, with a last faint ray of hope.

This time, it only hoped to receive hand-holding. The handsome middle-aged man invited it in and showed it the painting studio in the basement. It admired the portrait of a charming young woman. It touched a watercolor painting, and it smelled the slightly damp and pungent smell of paper and paint.

It turned out that he was an excellent artist.

It pulled on his sleeve as if begging him. “I don’t need a painting; I just want one hand to hold.”

The painter listened to every word of the doll, and he responded, ‘‘Hey, my cute girl! I’ve been holding the pen so much these past few days, so I cannot hold your hands with my calloused hands.’’

The doll wondered, ‘‘Just one hand to hold is so difficult!”

In the evening, on the way back to its slum, a dusty wind blew by, making it sway.

The dusty wind blew its shaggy hair, making the already messy hair even messier. Each dust particle flew into its eyes, making its eyes sting. The dust flew into its mouth, and it tasted the bitter, acrid taste of the dust particles.

When it got home, it looked carefully at its face in the mirror. It recalled every encounter with men. It said to the mirror, “Everyone compliments me on my beauty, but why don’t they give me a hug or even a handshake?”

The mirror stated its opinion: “They don’t hold your hand because they know your body comprises plastic, and if they touch it, it will hurt their hand. They don’t dare say it to you; they’re afraid you’ll be sad.”

When the doll heard this from the mirror, it realized men had deceived it. It was not beautiful at all.

Thank you for reading.

Yoshiko Amemiya

November 13, 2025