I didn’t think much of it when I showed up to the Lorries’ and found seven year old Rona June cuddling a stuffed unicorn. It seemed like she had a new toy for every day of the week; her parents’ answer to any complaint the kid might have. Loneliness, boredom, sadness, it all could be cured by a plush friend. Easier than actual parenting, I supposed. Not that it was my place to judge; they were paying me to tutor her twice a week in reading and writing, not play family shrink.
Still, it was hard not to notice the overflowing toy boxes lined up against one wall of her study room.
“Who’s this?” I asked cheerfully while I cleared off the small table we used for our lessons.
“Rudy,” she said, stroking the unicorn along its back…