The woman beads slowly. She hardly glances down at her work. The shape of something can be seen now; it is a lizard. They are dark green beads, red beads, black beads, and she scoops each tiny bead up with her needle. Her daughter stands up. "I think I'll be going now."
The woman does not want her to go. She opens her mouth to stop the girl but no words come and instead she scoops another bead. She is safe in her beading. The beads never make her feel uncomfortable. Her hands are capable of shaping the beads into anything she can imagine. Any color. With her beads, any mistakes she makes can be easily reversed, and she is grateful for that. Her hands tremble slightly and it  worries her. She does not want the girl to see this so she tells her to drive home safely.
The girl stares at her mother for several long moments. She wishes her mother would ask her to stay but she knows that she will not. Her mother now studies the lizard carefully and she does not look at the girl. She does not glance up until the door slams.