The block tower leaned left.
Arya held the last block
above the top.
“If I put it here,
the whole thing may fall.”
Jiya sat on the rug
with a wooden cow in her lap.
“Put it,” she said.
“You always say that.”
“Yes.”
Arya moved the block right.
Too far.
She moved it left.
The tower trembled.
She could stop.
The tower would remain almost finished.
It might stand all afternoon.
But it would never be done.
Arya lowered the block.
For one second,
the tower stood taller than Jiya.
Then it fell
with a long wooden thunder.
Jiya’s cow vanished
under the blocks.
There was silence.
Then one small wooden horn appeared.
“Again,” said the cow.
Jiya lifted it from the ruins.
Arya picked up the first block.