An exercise to come up with three ways of looking at a wooden egg.

One

Sam unlocked the door to her apartment and slipped inside. Safe. She’d made it through another encounter with her family with nothing more than the usual emotional guilt-trips and had managed to not ‘accidentally’ bump into Wayne on the second floor as she’d come in.

She locked the door behind her and reached for the egg in her pocket. Warm now, from being tucked against her all the way home, it looked strange against the modern simplicity of her home. She was so used to seeing it amongst the fuss and clutter of Grandma’s place.

She stroked the smooth surface with her thumb as she looked around for a good place to put it.

Two

Bryce had been walking up this path for hours, genuinely hours, he’d set off from the cottage they’d rented at breakfast, walked out the door when Jen’s ex had showed up to ‘rescue her from her folly’ and Jen had run straight into his arms.

They hadn’t even noticed him leave. Head down, one foot in front of the other, he paused when something rolled down the path and came to rest at the toe of his boot.

He looked up. Trees and mist, nothing to be seen. He looked down. It seemed to be a wooden egg. He reached down, poked it, and when it didn’t bite, picked it up.

Three

Petra looked at Billy, quietly rocking in the overlarge armchair, holding that funny wooden egg he loved, rubbing it against his cheek. She knew her mother didn’t like it. Didn’t like when Billy retreated into his own mind but he was happy there, at least for a little while, so she left him to it while she made dinner. When the keys turned in the front door, she tiptoed over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Mama’s home, Bill. Egg needs to go to sleep.”

Billy looked up at her, then towards the hallway. He nodded, and tucked the egg into his pocket. She smiled at him, and passed over the book Mama had bought last week – apparently it was very popular with children his age.