Toma threw half of her face into the open and gazed covetously at Ella’s mouth pressed into Mama’s veiny left breast. The other half of her face pressed against the wooden frame of the door. All that Toma wanted was to become Ella, Daddy’s tiny little thing. Get kissed in those glassy lips a hundred times. Gulp down Mama’s milk again and again. Then cry. Then get caressed in that soft skin with Vaseline and Dustin powder. She walked briskly towards them with lips drawn-out like a turtle’s beak and glided irritatingly into Mama. Ella’s lips grasped Mama’s nipple harder and gulped, so that Mama felt the piercing pain around her nipple. Mama squeezed her face, gave Ella a steamy spank, and then pushed Toma away. “Comot for here!’’. That evening Daddy’s tie dashed loosely around his neck and the hem of his royal blue shirt billowed in the cold evening breeze as he ran with Ella’s lifeless body in his arms while drops of blood and Mama followed him. Toma stood behind the door with a blood stained hand and the tiger razor gripped between her thumb and index, dishing a blank stare.