Darian
When I show up at the carnival holding a bag, Alice looks confused. “You don’t have to bring her a new toy every time you see her.”
“It’s not a toy,” I say as my daughter leaps into my arms. “I wanted to get her something to wear.”
“She has clothes.”
I look down at the emerald scarf my daughter is wearing, and I touch it gently. “I was sure you would have thrown this away.”
Alice opens her mouth and then shrugs one shoulder. “Mira likes it.”
From the way she doesn’t meet my eyes, I wonder if it’s only Mira who likes it. Or is Alice holding onto something from the past because of the memory attached to it? All I know is, she’s not going to give me a straight answer if I ask.
“I’ve never had the opportunity to buy her things. Clothing and other necessities, I mean. And I can’t
