Mel laughed. "Remember how sweet you were when you were little? Your mother refused to cut your hair and you looked like a girl? And you had all those invisible friends." "Not invisible, I was just the only one she talked to," Dorian said automatically, and then he shook his head and laughed along with his aunt. As a young child, Dorian had frequently gone running to his parents adamant that a lady was coming to see him in the woods behind their house. His father had checked his story once, then told him to go back outside and play. That was how Dorian made a new friend. She sat on the ground with him in the cool forest full of calling birds, in her long green dress with the high lace collar and pearl buttons, and told him ancient stories of dead civilizations. She let him play with her old silver pocketwatch that had three dials and stars on it's face, and said he could have it when he was older. But when he was older she stopped visiting, and soon he accepted his father's reasoning that she was just a dream. The most vivid bit of this dream was her apopemptic words the last time he saw her, just six years old. "One day I'll come find you again, Dorian Hunter."
We're all in the gutter, but some of us look at the stars. ~Oscar Wilde.
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