He found her standing alone on a pinnacle of sadness.
There was no breeze.
Her blue dress hung down in straight lines. Her white stockings had seen better days. Her white pinafore was gone to points unknown.
She had chopped her blonde hair to shoulder length, but the ends were uneven as if they couldn’t remember the right way to grow out again.
He cleared his throat.
He removed his hat and cleared his throat again. “I’m here.”
“I know.” Her voice was no longer that of a child. It was sad and worn out.
“Will you come back with me?”
She didn’t respond.
“Alice.” He tightened his grip on his top hat’s brim. “Alice, will you come back with me?”
“I can’t. My heart is no longer intrigued by oddities and bizarre things. My heart has aged and grown weary.”
“Then, come with me. Find your inner joy again.”
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