the other.
Sabrina looked genuinely pleased.
“There.”
I turned off the wheel.
“It can hold things.”
“Probably.”
“A stirring endorsement.”
She leaned toward it, lifted one hand, and caught herself before touching the rim.
“Would you like to smooth that part?”
I looked at the bowl.
“Actually, I think I want to leave it.”
She sat back.
Then she smiled.
“Okay.”
While we washed our hands, I noticed a smear of clay near her cheek.
“You’ve got something.”
“Where?”
I pointed. She rubbed the wrong place.
“Other side.”
She made
