At first glance, she seemed like a pack of highlighters had coloured her body. A strange, vividly eccentric girl, she stood in the center of the crowd, and yet seemed so separate from it. Her hair, cut in a jagged, voluminous bob, was neon blue, and she absentmindedly curled a stray strand around her finger. Her makeup was so extravagant it seemed almost clownish – hot pink lipstick, rainbow eyeshadow, and long, painted nails. Giant green hoops swung from her ears. She was quite petite, but seemed to take up more space than any of the navy, grey and black-clad people around her. The girl wore a bright orange hoodie that clashed aggressively with her warm, reddish-toned skin. Her leggings were made of a plastic-like material, and she scuffed the toe of one of her glittering silver platform boots against the dusty sidewalk. Only a very observant onlooker could have looked past the colourful appearance, and perhaps that was her goal. Her shoulders were hunched almost imperceptibly, her chin a touch too low. Beneath the makeup, her eyes looked mournfully out into the distance. She seemed lost and vulnerable, but trying hard not to show it. One of her hands was curled around a small, singed note, crumpled and tearstained. If the very observant onlooker also happened to have x-ray vision, they could have read the neat, even lettering: “We’re sorry, but we simply don’t have the space or resources for two children. We promise to take good care of your brother. He’ll forget about you soon enough, it’s better that way. For all of us.” The girl clenched the note tighter in her fist and brushed an invisible speck of dust of her sleeve. Her neon outfit and hair seemed to reassure her – she would never be forgotten again.