. . .

“Wait,” says Emily uncertainly. “Wait. That wasn’t what I meant to do.”

“It is time for you to recharge me, Emily,” says Navvy Jim.

“But,” says Emily, “I meant to throw scissors.”

“Intentions are troublesome things,” says Navvy Jim. “We believe we intend one thing, but we do another! What is the meaning behind these circumstances? I can only assume it has something to do with statistics.”

And Emily tries to count sneakily, “One-two-three scissors,” but Navvy Jim has already put her down.

She works her face. She stares at him.

Then she giggles helplessly at the rock of him and hugs him hard around his metal leg, and leads him off to the charging station to be renewed.

 

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