Despite the morning’s disarray, the day passed without much note. As Alice closed the blinds of the café that evening, her thoughts turned to the girl with Dean McRae’s eyes, then to the strawberry and white chocolate cupcakes. Surely it was just a coincidence.

Alice was too on edge to head up the external staircase to her apartment and call it a night. Instead, she made her way along the ambling creek that ran past two sides of the café, wrapping its way from the back around to the side before meandering off to the right to cut the town in half about half a kilometre downstream. The single bridge there, joining the east and west banks, was one of Alice’s favourite parts of town.

The grass by the creek edge was long this time of year and Alice slipped off her shoes to feel the soft blades between her toes. The fields of Massey’s farm to her left had been turned. Planting would begin soon. To the north she could see the lights of town blinking on as the sun began to set. She would only walk as far as the bridge, as far as Dandelion Dell this evening. With little chance of running into anyone, she could stop in her special place. She could sit on the bench hugged by dandelions and run her hands along the wood, like she often did when her thoughts were a mess, and draw on the sense of calm that always washed over her there.

She followed the creek as it curved to the right, stopping just before Dandelion Dell. Curled up on the white bench was the girl in grey.

‘You didn’t get very far,’ Alice said gently, stepping forward.

The girl sat up, and Alice’s breath caught as the familiar blue eyes pierced right through her.

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