“Not now, Pumpkin, I’m busy.”
Bemused, the blue-eyed girl continues to play pretend with her dolls, holding up one in particular.
“I’ll fix your doll later.” The whetstone slips from his hands. “Shocking how her head just came off like that.”
“Daddy will be back in a minute.”
He leaves, she pouts.
A few scarlet moments elapse, and he is favoring his right hand.
“Okay you’ve got my full attention. I’m ready to look at your doll.”
He wipes gouts of blood from his hand. “I don’t know, but Mommy will never look at the postman again.”