He placed a matryoshka doll on the table between them, amid the two glasses with remnants of red wine and the half burnt candle.
Excitement shot through her body right down to her fingertips. She tore the first layer open, then the second while small, uncontrollable bursts of glee escaped her grinning lips.
One small matryoshka left. She bit her bottom lip; the fact that he was backing away from the table not registering.
A creak as wood scraped wood, the doll opened and out came vapour.
‘What? No ring?’
‘No, baby. Just a goodbye gift.’
This is for Trifecta. The word I chose from the dictionary page was not Baby originally. The inspiration for this story came purely from the fact that I thought the dolls were called babushka. It was only after I read the fine print of the definition – and a thorough google search just to make sure – did i realise that the dolls are in fact matryoshkas. Well, glad I realised in time!