Mary knew people were getting older, but she hadn't heard anything about the opposite yet. But no matter what age she was, the sound of crayons gliding over paper always called out to her, and it wasn't long before she was standing over Garry, hands clasped behind her back.

...This child's hair... Why would anybody else want to wear that? It was bad enough that one person sported that colour and style. Who was this kid, anyway?

"Hmm... You're good."