Children made fun of Sammy, and pointed at her clothes. They said she was a weirdo, they said she had a pointy nose. Sammy seemed not to care, and go about how she was. She went home every night with Joe, and wrote stories in her Big Blue Book, ones of girls with friends and normal mums, ones without so many flaws.

By the time she was sixteen years old, Sammy was quite the oddity. She had dyed her hair pink and red, she caused quite a controversy. Her eyes were hazy from her thoughts, in which her mind most often dwelled. Her speech was slow and thoughtful and a gaze she always held.

She didn’t see Joe anymore, he’d grown up too and moved away. He lived now only in her book, and there she saw him every day. The pictures were of nothing, and stories of him even her mother could not tell. But he lived on like a special memory, one she could not impel.

After college Sammy finished her Big Blue Book, and had managed to get it published, it was a bestseller. She won awards for being such an amazing storyteller.