Turn turn turn.

Her daughter was down for her nap finally. Her son was at school, terrorizing his teachers. All she could hear was the sound of the dryer.  Every rotation, her daughter’s coat buttons would hit the metal in the drum and make a clicking noise. It made her feel safe. She brought the doll out of the box and looked at it. It simply sat there, button eyes shining dully in the light of the dining room lamp. For one breathless moment, the her world pivoted, as if on the edge of a spinning coin, and then fell.

The doll sat up. Its placid face stayed in the same painted expression, but she could tell that it seemed annoyed. It stood, and then bowed to her, in a slightly sarcastic way. It gestured in the direction of her bedroom. She slowly stood with the doll, and walked into the bedroom.

The book lay there on the bed. She put the doll down next to it, where indicated, and stood to wait. The doll opened the book and began to thumb through it.

Soon, she had to take over the job, as the doll only had stuffed mitten like hands.