They both continue to stare into the flames.
“I don’t have time tonight to find the butterfly sail ship. Nor its picture in the dollhouse.”
“Why don’t you go to the map.” Norris’ voice was so tinny and small that Ruby Fantasie barely recognized it over the hiss and crackle of the fire.
The map, Ruby thought. I don’t have time for that neither. “Tell more,” she requested.
“The map…”
“Could you speak up Tiny Norris.”
“Yes. *The* *map* *is* *at* *the* *center* *of* *your* *understanding*.”
Understanding, Ruby Fantasie pondered. Did I understand that correctly? Understand understanding?
She asked.
“*Understanding* *yes*. *Go* *back* *to* *the* *map*. *Look* *for* *the*…”
Tiny Norris had fallen onto the floor. His head was in one part, his body another.
He must have meant glue, Ruby understood.
Sunklands 