Needle In A Haystack.
Trains. Wooden mechanical trains with hinges that creaked as they bent at corners and looked like they would tip over if they went one more degree. Wooden toy trains that had been the companions of many a single child, bearing loving bite and scuff marks of faithful companionship. Daisy shut her eyes real tight and tried to envision herself on the swings in the park on the next street. She loved going there. Back when mama was still ‘okay’, she used to take her there a lot. She would push Daisy real high on the swings, and she would giggle really loudly, reaching up her perfectly tanned little girl arms to the skies and pretending she could grab the few puffy clouds which floated around the vast blue seas. She particularly liked the plastic swings with the yellow designs, although mama used to say it wasn’t very practical. The downstairs door slammed, jarring her back to her current reality. Against her own volition, Daisy whimpered and started to quiver real hard in her b...