The Doll on the Table
We set the doll carefully on the kitchen table. I held my breath as my husband found the right tool and began to unscrew the back panel just like he’d promised.
I tried to remain calm, though my heartbeat quickened with each twist of his hand. ‘Careful,’ I reminded him needlessly, my eyes diving between the tiny screws and his focused face, hoping for neither an intricate mess nor a terrible revelation.