. . .

After that, the boy stops moving. He’s just a wooden boy, after all. They don’t actually, you know, move, or do stuff. Hans picks him up. He plays with his hands and feet.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Brygmir says.

Oh, right! She was coming over.

Hans startles. He’d entirely forgot.

“I was just making sense of things!” Hans protests, embarrassed.

She sells him tape.

(She makes tape, for his emus.)

He throws the boy in his pantry, with the food and gold.

<< . . .

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