Fungal Halo

I stumble and fall again, dropping the pitcher, its precious fluid spilled and wasted as it shatters on the ground. My limbs struggle to bear me upright again when I feel the heel of Her boot on my back, the weight of Her disappointment in me holding me down.

When the doll accidentally drops the teacup, shattering it, she knows just what to do. She takes her time wiping up spilled liquid and carefully picking up each shard to throw away.

Then, with equal care, she follows the trash, climbing into the garbage can herself.