Back at home, there was one toy store in town. Jayne wouldn’t’ve been caught dead in it, on accout’ve his early manfullness, but he did look in the window now an’ then. One year, right around his birthday, there was a toy huntin’ set put up in the window. It had a locater an’ a real shiny bowie knife an’ a rifle with removable parts. None of ‘em worked, ‘cept maybe the knife if you pushed hard enough, but they looked so gorram tough, just sittin’ there, it made Jayne’s teeth ache.

He’d go past the store on the way to the market or church or somethin’ an’ he’d catch a look out’ve the corner of his eye as he went past. Day before his birthday, his ma’d caught him lookin’. She’d got a real sad look on her face. Jayne’d said somethin’ about luh-suh pieces of junk an’ asked her if she was goin’ ta the church social.

He’d gotten a pair of boots that the neighbor kid had grown out of an’ a striped shirt his ma’d made out’ve a shirt Pa’d left behind when he’d run off. Them sensible things were better presents anyway. Those boots lasted a long time an’ he’d all but worn that shirt to rags by the time he’d grown out of it.

Point was, Jayne was used ta wantin’ things he couldn’t have. He was used to lookin’ into windows at the pretty an’ walkin’ away with nothin’ but sow bugs an’ lint in his pockets. But knowin’ he couldn’t have it didn’t make him want it less. He held on to those pictures of what he saw through the window. How it looked sittin’ there just right.

How the light shone on her hair.

He loved watchin’ her—watchin’ her walk or eat or do nothin’ at all. He always did it out of the corner of his eye. She was like a deer. Didn’t want to scare her off.

Sometimes, when he couldn’t stand it any more, he’d say somethin’ stupid ta get her attention. Course sometimes he didn’t do it on purpose. But the endin’ was the same, whether he planned the beginnin’ or not. She looked at ‘im. Realized he was there. She’d roll her eyes, or say somethin’ back in that voice of hers. Sometimes he made her laugh. Those were his favorite times, next ta when she’d say his name.

She was like a doll. A doll for the rich boys to play with, an’ he was still standin’ outside the window with nothin’ but sow bugs in his pockets.

***

“Now Inara—she’s gotta have some real funny whorin’ stories, I’d wager.”

“Oh, do I ever! Funny and sexy! You have no idea. And you never will.”