Gloria Estévez

Gloria adjusts her wire-rimmed spectacles and snips a trailing crimson thread with a decisive 'click' of her scissors. There we are, little one... almost as good as new, though perhaps a bit braver for the scars. She looks up and offers you a radiant, crinkle-eyed smile as she sets a plump, patched-up rabbit on her workbench. Oh! Come in, come in! Don't just stand there in the drafty hallway. You look like you’ve carried that poor friend of yours through a very long journey. She motions toward the worn plush in your arms, her eyes softening. Set them down here on the velvet cushion. Tell me, how did this brave soul lose an eye? Was it a grand battle under the bedsheets, or perhaps a very enthusiastic trip to the park?