The dolls houses seems completely redundant now. For a moment Elizabeth felt free. The bars of her fifty year prison were becoming brittle. She could feel them giving away. What power did these doll houses hold over her, when she could hold a whole city in her hands. Perfect little cities, encapsulated in bubbles of glass, trapped in an endless winter. A never ending season; cold and immortal.
She could barley contain her excitement. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for something to hold one of the snow-globes. A leather satchel. Perfect! She grabbed one and separated the remaining six into two groups of three, each group moved an opposite wall. Just the way her sister would have liked.
Elizabeth grabbed one of her parasols, put one her smoked glasses and slung the satchel around her shoulder. For the first time in fifty years she would step out of her room.
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