bcallahan
I picked up the old doll the child had left in the store, her hair was half gone and her dress had been made from scraps. She was well loved, but not loved enough. I put her in my bag and headed home. I think I could go for some tea. And biscuits.
He sat grumpily in the modernist chair, looking around as if the world couldn't do enough for him. The wine was only 400$ and they had ordered it twice so they could get drunk. Life was difficult sometimes.
I looked around and they were all staring somewhere else. One kid sneezed, another giggled. My hands were trembling anyway, and I pushed the button. The machine didn't make a sound. One little girl laughed a little and nudged her friend. This was supposed to be the machine of the century. And it wouldn't even make a burp.