Miriam, a 16-year-old neighbor, walked confidently up to the door with a pitcher of fresh juice in hand. She rapped softly on the door, calling out in a singsong voice- "Kuuuro? Theo? Anybody home?" hoping maybe that someone would hear, so she could share some of the sweet drink with her cherished friends. Maybe it would lighten their day a little, after the accident.
Her long, deep chestnut hair, held back with a bright purple bandana, moved gently as the breeze caught it. She let her shoulders slouch, the petite girl patiently waiting for someone to open the door. The glass pitcher slipped a little in her left hand, but she wouldn't drop it. She listened to the sound of very muffled conversation and smiled.