Her fear vanished.
Instinct took over.
She boiled water.
Found clean cloth.
Poured alcohol into a small bowl.
Then she ran upstairs and returned with her sewing tweezers.
Gideon saw them.
His eyes widened.
He grabbed her wrist.
He wrote:
Dangerous.
Rosalie took the pencil.
More dangerous if it stays.
He shook his head.
You don’t know what it is.
She wrote:
Neither do you.
He stared at her.
Rosalie’s hand trembled.
But she didn’t move away.
Do you trust me?
Gideon looked at her.
A long moment passed.
Then he nodded.
Rosalie carefully brought the lamp closer.
The black shape moved again.
It was thin.
Wet.
Almost like a dark root.
She could not tell where it began.
She gently positioned the tweezers.
Gideon’s fingers locked around the edge of the table.
Rosalie whispered:
“Easy.”
He couldn’t hear.
But perhaps he understood her expression.
