A box sits on a porch.
A little girl opens it.
"Mommy, look!"
The mother grabs the doll from the child hands and examines it. "Where did you find this?"
"On the porch, in a box, can I have it?"
"Sweetheart, this looks..." How do I tell my daughter she can have this dirty creepy rag doll? "Sure. I'll have to wash it first. Several, several times. Go play with your other dolls."
She skipped upstairs as I continued to clean. After I folded clothes I looked over to wear I placed the doll only to see it was no longer there.
"Hon!" She called to her daughter upstairs. "Did you take that doll? I told you I had to wash it first!"
"No! You told me not to!"
"Then where the hell is it?" She mumbled.
She spots it out the corner of her eye.
Sitting right beside her. It slowly turns it's had to her. Afraid to look, she doesn't. She sits still.
Very still.