First he coiled his wrist around the lid.
As he spun the lid, the jar stuck and flew out of his hand.
A one handed catch.
He elbowed the hot water tap on.
Balanced the jar under the steam.
Until too hot it got so he let it slide into the sink.
He grabbed a tea towel and enveloped the jar in a fury.
But the heavy open handed slap didn’t budge the lid. Even now twisting the towel to spin the lid slid the jar floor wards again.
Between his knees holding the jar, looking down, a small face appeared.
I can do it, she said. He sighed and handed it off. She curled her hands around the top. Lid uncoiled. Jar opened. Sticky fingers.