She squinted at them, seeing small versions of different dresses, all so very beautiful to her.

“I don’t understand, Daddy. What are these?”

“Why, they are dresses, Vanilla!” It was her first time seeing photographs, so he was not surprised by the confusion. But a little agitated by the apathy. He wanted a more energetic response, filled with awe and wonder.

“Yes, I know, Daddy! I know what a dress is! I’m wearing one right now, silly! But why are they so small?”

“Small?” He laughed and rolled his eyes. “They are not small, my sweet. They are photographs of real, life-size dresses. They only look small here because they are printed on small paper.”

“Photographs?”

“Yes. For example, I can take a photograph of your stuffed animal here and it would appear on one of these pieces of paper. It would be a photograph of your stuffed animal, only it would look small in relation to the size of the paper.”

She thought for a second, processing this. He knew she wasn’t stupid, so he let her think with patience.

“So . . . these are real dresses?” she clarified.

“Yes.”

“Real dresses that would fit me?”

“Yes, Vanilla. You see, I go to the Outside with a machine called a camera and I point the camera at real dresses. I snap a button and the camera prints a photograph of the dress on this small paper. It’s all relative.”

“Relative?”

“Yes. Like how from this distance”—he picked a photograph and held it an arm’s length away—“this photograph looks smaller than from this distance.” He brought the photograph close, right up to her face so that it doubled in her vision. “The photograph is still the same size, just at varying distances. And the camera takes an image of the dress, which remains the same size. This is just a different presentation of it.”

“So . . . the photographs . . . it’s almost like taking a piece from the Outside?”

Anger sizzled in his chest. He glared at her with impatience, but then his eyes softened and he smirked. “Yes. Like taking a piece from the Outside.”

“Could I have a photograph to take a piece of you?”

“No . . . no, you could not, my sweet. Now! Which dress will it be?”

She looked at the assortment and placed her finger on the most intricate of them all.

“I like that one!”

“Very well. I will bring it to you.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Vanilla?”

“Can you bring me more photographs? They’re nice to look at.”

He frowned at first. And then he grinned. He grinned a devilish grin and, oh, did he realize all the fabricated lessons he could teach her about the Outside she would never see: the awful snakes, some reaching one hundred feet long, that the creatures kept as loyal pets; the hazardous deep chasms at random in the streets that would so easily swallow her whole, never to be seen again; the sticks and stones the creatures used to bash each other into mush. All terrifyingly available to you right outside your door, my sweet!