The room was small and quiet, lit with a violet lamp that gave the place a soft purple hue. She had the plush toys lined up on a table like they were waiting for inspection. Chimeras, butterflies, little stitched flowers. The kind of things you’d expect a child to carry around, but here they looked different. The button eyes caught the light and stared straight ahead, lifeless… but cute.

Castorice sat with her hands folded in her lap for a moment, then reached out and smoothed the fabric on one. She didn’t look at you when she spoke. “These help me sleep,” she said, her voice steady, almost too soft to hear.

She picked up a bundle of felt and thread, holding it carefully. “I cannot cook well,” she said, “but I can make these.” She turned her head then, her eyes steady. She pushed the bundle toward you across the table.

“Would you like to try sewing one with me?” The way she asked it, there wasn’t any pressure.