Presents for Sophie - 9.

She lingers over each gift with the slow patience of someone who knows the pleasure is in the unwrapping. A ribbon slides between her fingers. Lace panties unfold like a secret. She holds them up, thumbs tracing the tiny bow stitched at the front, then lets them fall back into the pile. The fur toy follows—soft enough to make her smile without showing her teeth. She tests the weight of it against her bare thigh, a quick, private brush that makes the downy fur prickle. Next come the CDs; she fans them between painted nails and reads the track lists aloud under her breath. The hand-repair kit rattles when she shakes it, tiny metal tools clicking like jewelry against the box. The necklace is last. She turns the pendant in the light until it throws a white dot across the wall, then fastens it at her throat, cool metal settling in the hollow above her collarbone. Each gift earns the same small sound, half sigh, half thank-you, as though she is speaking to whoever sent them through the camera.