"Py, why don't you take me places anymore?"

"Galatea, you never went anywhere for years and no complaints.  Why do you bother me now when I am working?" The sculptor ran one dusty hand over his forehead to brush the hair out of his face, leaving white streaks across his head as if her pouting had suddenly turned him grey. "Just hold your arm steady, I almost have it."

"Yes, and all that time don't think I couldn't hear you, praying I would speak to you and promising me so much if only your dreams for me could come true", Galatea retorted, her voice rising to be heard above the sound of the hammer. "Now that I am here and doing as you wish, you find me a burden."  

She started to sob but rather than moving the object of her pleading, his attitude became more impervious to her apparent heartbreak.

"Oh, now you've gone and done it". he exclaimed.  "I've ruined the hand.  How am I going to fix this now?  How many times have I told you not to move?  Give them life and suddenly they can't sit still for a second", he muttered, tossing his chisel down for emphasis.  "A whole day's work ruined."

"Give me life?", she said.  "There you go again, Py, taking credit.  I was everything you see long before that.  And oh, how you used to court me, always bringing me gifts and jewelry; kissing me so sweetly and begging me to respond.  I was cool in those days, cold in fact.  You doted on me, you yearned for just one bit of warmth from me and now that you have it, you scorn me. I am leaving you Pygmalion, leaving!"  She collapsed upon the chair, sobbing.

It was true, he thought, as he surveyed the work he now created.  Galatea was every bit as beautiful as this new statue he now carved. But how foolish he had been not to realize that his perfect creation would be ruined by becoming a real woman.  Before he had longed for her touch and to hear the sound of her voice, but now he recoiled from her.  His serene angel had become this creature of petulance and jealousy, full of demands.  Yes, she had been the helper he had envisioned in his work. Indeed, she helped him now in ways she did not even suspect as he fashioned this new sculpture with her as his model. Gala was lovely, but her needs were superceding his own in her priorities.  It was a shame that she was going before he had quite finished but he had worked without a model the first time and he was sure he could do it again.

"I am going Py."

She was at the door, having gathered her things in a small bag. She stood expectantly but the call to stay was never sounded.  With a look of defeat she opened the door and paused, to give him one last chance to cajole her with pretty words and promises as he had done in the past, but as none were forthcoming, she turned defiantly and strode out.  

The sculptor watched with a slightly wistful gaze.   He would miss the pearl necklace she was wearing but what could he do?  It was a gift.  He caressed the tapered ivory neck of his new creation and hoped to find another set of perfect pearls just as lovely to adorn her. And this time, he vowed, no more silly wishes.