Synecdoche

Dear diary, I'm afraid I'm gravely ill. It is perhaps times like these that one reflects on things past. An article of clothing from when I was young. A green jacket. A walk with my father. A game we once played...
-Pretend we're fairies. I'm a girl fairy and my name is Lauralee, and you're a boy fairy, and your name is Teetery. Pretend when we're fairies, we fight each other. And I say "Stop hitting me or I'll die!" and you hit me again, and I say: "Now I have to die." and you say "But I'll miss you." and I say "But I have to." and you'll have to wait a million years to see me again. And I'll be put in a box, and all I'll need, and lots of tiny pieces of pizza. And the box will have wings like an airplane. And you ask "Where will it take you?" Home, I say.
Home.