"Hello," said Marivel.
The paper man turned his blank white face toward her. He raised his pencil and drew in a smile. Marivel waited. The paper man sketched in a pair of raised eyebrows.
"Can't you talk?"
With a rustle, he erased his questioning brows and drew a frown.
"What are you writing?"
Rustle... scribble... angry now. He shooed her away.
Marivel tried to lean in and see. The paper man pushed at her, but he was made of paper. He crinkled beneath her.
"Ha!" cried Marivel, reaching triumphantly. She froze then at the unmistakable sound of tearing paper.
Unbranching Personal Narratives
19 hours ago