“And then the Mad Hatter appeared, and he was having a tea party with the March Hare and the Dormouse,” the little girl continued, gesturing with her little hands to emphasize her words. “Alice drank from the shrinking potion and grew smaller and smaller until she was only as big as a mouse. She climbed on the table, and they all had a wonderful time together.”
Carmen couldn’t help but smile at the little girl’s infectious enthusiasm. “You’re a great storyteller,” she said, still caught up in the magic of the tale, and perhaps forgetting about all her miseries for a while.
There was something about the girl that brought Carmen calm and warmth, it was as if she were not telling a story but a lullaby that Carmen could listen to day and night. Her voice was sweet and soothing, and her eyes
