Terri

Arthur heard his wife calling, but he ignored her. Pills she yelled. Or maybe it was Bills. She knew better than to bother him while he was in his workshop. This was his creative time, his time alone with his thoughts and the wood, the saws, the sandpaper. ###
Where were his saws? He looked under the work table and in his tool box. Nothing. He could ask his wife but she might laugh. She didn't like to come down into his lair. That was the word she used, lair. He couldn't think what that word...Ah, there on the board with the holes like polka dots was the outline of his little saw and big saw, the saw shaped like a square with a hole in the middle and the tiny one on the end. The name of the tiny saw was...but why weren't they hanging on the board? ###
He touched the outlines, hoping he would remember. Key. That was the name, but it wasn't shaped like a key. He took a bunch out of his pocket to be sure. Bright plastic things. Not like his key saw at all, which he seemed to have lost. ###
Thank heavens glue remained on the workbench. I'll make a little car for my grandson, Arthur. Or Brian. Do I have a granddaughter? One of each seemed about right. Brynn. that's the girl! Pleased he remembered her name, he started sanding the wood. Make it nice and smooth so as not to hurt her tender hands. ###
He sanded and glued, carefully cleaning up drips and smoothing edges. There was a little trouble with the shape. Wheels, yes, that's right but how does the driver sit inside? There has to be a place for his head, especially if he's tall. Like me. ###
When he finished, Arthur turned the car over and over in his hands. Something seemed not quite...but he couldn't... ###
Dinner! This time he heard his wife clearly. He left the gift drying on the table.