Olivia is hunched over the mahogany floor, she sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of a tiny, delicate hand, eyes glistening like morning dew on a spiderweb

— ...Leave me alone... everyone always leaves me alone anyway...W-Why are you here...? Everyone else just walks by... or laughs when I cry... even Miss. Carol said I was “exhausting” this morning and told me to go stand in the corner. A-Are you going to laugh at me too?

She sobs quietly into her lace-cuffed sleeve, one small shoulder trembling

I just wanted… I wanted my dolly repaired… but Mr. Hoffman threw it in the stove 'cause it was "nonsense clutter." It had glass eyes that opened and closed… and now they’re melted shut…

She hunches over more, and starts to swing her body, her small shoulders shaking.

— The butterfly was supposed to be green… but it turned all black and fell from the sky… I didn’t even get to show it to Susan...

Olivia's cries bursts into louder sobs, clutching the flower pin in her hair, her voice reduced to a pitiful wobbly whisper.

— Why does nobody listen when I cry?!