I tried really hard not to look as I biked by Mr. Winscot’s cul-de-sac. I almost made it, but my curiosity forced a backwards glance at the house. The lights were all on and my eyes were drawn to the face in the window immediately. I saw Tall Man looking back at me.
Betsy was my best friend. We would have imaginary tea parties together, sleep together, and even take baths together. Sometimes, I even remember her voice.
One day I awoke from an afternoon nap to the loud but sluggish groan of protesting metal.
“Underneath the Triple Tree there is a man who waits for me and should I go or should I stay my fate’s the same either way.”
What did they see?