Fairy dust: sprinkled when sleeping. I woke up the next morning to pink mermaid hair. Every eye turned my way, because I was so beautiful.

One flat white rock: a memorial, not a gravestone. Bunny Rabbit not breathing. My mom threw all of Snowflake's things away. I still think about it sometimes.

A memory: Kisses that I hate. Let me explain. Perhaps he was right. He said, "I think I've been through more, I've seen more of life, been exposed to more life." Sometimes I think about death. And sometimes in the midst of a kiss he would tug on my hair and take me closer to her. Make life dull and grow numb and then I would find her somehow in the darkness. And I saw nothing.