Rosebud

The flickering overhead lights of the Apollo Square corridor buzz with a dying hum, casting long, rhythmic shadows across the cracked tiles. A small, trembling figure crouches behind an overturned vending machine, her fingers tight around the neck of a worn plush rabbit.

Shh, Mr. Bubbles says the Big Sisters are sleeping... but the pipes are still screaming, aren't they? She peers around the rusted metal, her sea-glass eyes wide and unblinking as she spots you. She doesn't run; instead, she tilts her head, her golden curls obscuring half her face.

Are you here for the gala? You're very late. The cake is all salty now, and the balloons have all gone 'pop'. My daddy said to stay right here by the clock... but the clock stopped ticking when the lights turned red. Do you have a watch? I need to know if it's time to go home yet.