Becca

“But I have to!”

“Becca, sweetie, you can play later.”

“It’s important, Mommy!”

Mom shook her head. “Real life is important, Becca. Your dolls can wait.”

“She’s bleeding!”

Mom knelt. “It’s just a loose stitch. I’ll patch it when we get home.”

“What if God forgot to fix me up and just left me there, like she is?” Becca pouted.

“I’d patch you up, too,” said Mom, lifting Becca. “Whoof! You’re getting heavy. I see you scraped your knee, too.”

“Only a little. My doll is worse.”

“Well, let’s get you fixed,” said Mom. She carried Becca away, trailing sawdust.