Alice’s end of the daisy chain kept falling apart. She glanced at Marie’s end. It draped across her lap, seeming to go on forever. Marie’s long fingers seemed lightning quick as she pierced the stalks. Alice’s end was measly in comparison. But Marie was older than her, and so self-assured and confident and so kind to her. And it was her kindness that made her beautiful, because nice people are usually the prettiest, as Marie had said to her once. Or pretty people are usually the nicest. Anyway. Marie was amazing. It was a wonder she would let Alice near her at all.
Bró + Ron - Alice.