A Slanted Grip

Stiff fuzz gave way first. A quiet tickle stirred in my palm. *Hmph.* Not entirely motionless, are we? Leaning awkwardly against the table, I tested my right arm, cautiously nudging forward until green fluff brushed the shiny red bow right beside me. Soft satin, quite cheerful. I gave it one gentle tug—just to confirm I was the one doing the pulling—and settled back against the girl doll's sleeve, smirking quietly.