CONTESSA DOESN’T UNDERSTAND STUFFED ANIMALS

The town fair was modest—just a few rows of booths, a handful of rides, and the scent of fried food hanging in the warm evening air. Children darted past, clutching oversized stuffed animals, while groups of teenagers hovered near the game stalls, egging each other on to try their luck.

Contessa stood at the edge of the crowd, quietly taking it all.

Maggie nudged her with an elbow. “C’mon, hon, you’re supposed to be having fun.”

“I am observing.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Maggie said with a laugh, gesturing toward a booth where a man in a red vest was calling out to passersby. Behind him, a pyramid of milk bottles stood tall, a baseball resting on the counter. “Let’s try this one.”

Contessa followed, watching as Maggie handed over a few bills. The carny flashed a grin. “Three throws, knock ’em all down, win a prize.”

Maggie picked up the ball, testing its weight in her hand. “Simple enough,” she said, before hurling it at the stack. The ball hit its mark, but only the top few bottles wobbled and toppled.

“Rigged,” she muttered, clicking her tongue.

The carny spread his hands innocently. “Just takes a good arm, lady.”

Maggie turned to Contessa. “Your turn.”

Contessa picked up the ball. It was slightly heavier than expected—deliberately so, she suspected. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the pyramid. The bottom row was weighted. The angle had to be exact.

She threw.

The ball struck dead center, sending the entire stack crashing down with a single, decisive impact.

The carny blinked. “Well, damn.”

Maggie let out a whoop. “That’s my girl!”

Contessa turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “You did not doubt my ability?”

“Nah, hon,” Maggie said, grinning. “I just wanted to see the look on his face.”

The carny sighed and gestured toward the wall of stuffed animals. “Pick your prize.”

Contessa surveyed the selection. Large, colorful, and entirely impractical. Her finger pointed to a small, round stuffed owl.

Maggie laughed as the carny handed it over. “That’s the one you want?”

“It is compact and efficient.”

Maggie shook her head, still grinning. “You really are something else.”

Contessa studied the owl in her hands. It was soft, light, and as expected, served no practical purpose. Yet, it was strangely pleasant to hold.

She didn’t entirely understand the appeal.

But she kept it anyway.