Bitter stuck her thumb in her mouth and watched with wide eyes as her drawing shimmered and the butterfly lifted off the page, fluttering around her in crayoned silence. Maybe she should have been afraid, but even as young as she was then, Bitter had been alone for too long and she’d seen much more terrifying things than a drawing deciding to come to life. Her butterfly felt like a friend, for the half hour it stayed with Bitter under the table before dissolving into sunshine dust.
