Oct 01, 2007 20:03
No! No! You can't take her! yelps the daughter in a shrill voice. It's as if her life is being yanked from her hands, her heart from her chest. The mother continues to pull until Lenein's left arm tears from the rest of the body. Ugh, such cheap threads and poor sewing! A lazy novice must have put this one together. Feathers and fluff pop into the air, a few pieces of the debris catching the daughter's unmanageable hair. The mother has tried to tame that lion's mane for years, but not even a comb of steel could calm such a storm!
Look at what you have done. Now what will I give to your cousin? The rest of your toys look like they belong to the street children! Images of bare feet on pavement, blackened fingernails and missing teeth fill the daughter's head.
That is why Lenein is her favorite. It once belonged to a princess of New Spain and it made her different from the other dolls. It was clean and smelled of fresh paper. Ever since the mother gave it to her, the daughter became royalty too. Her throne, the high seat in the kitchen.
Time is running out and the mother still needs to finish cleaning before her sister and niece arrive. Fetch my broom in the pantry, I have so much to do!
At this, the daughter drops to the floor and begins to sob silently because her most precious doll is now handicapped.