They snatched it from her hands, the pear-flavored pie, in exchange for yet another two slaps to her face. Poire yelped as she was shoved without mercy into a toilet stall. The girls laughed and laughed, and even when they had left the bathroom did their laughs continue to echo across the tiled walls.

Poire wanted to cry. As she looked to the ground, biting her lip until she tasted iron, her nails dug into the small of her palms until her skin turned white.

The tears stopped coming.

A modest sigh of relief escaped past her lips.

When she returned to the classroom ten minutes later a note had been delivered atop her desk. What a delicious pie. Thank you for the treat, it read.

It took all the energy in Poire’s frail body to hold herself back from screaming. She scrunched the note up and threw it into the bin. It landed with a miserable clunk right beside the metallic void. She dragged her feet over to the ball of paper, picked it up, and dropped it where it belonged.

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The day only grew longer after that. I want to go home, Poire thought. She leaned against her arm and glanced out her classroom’s window. But where is home? she wondered as she watched her classmates run toward their parents at the gates. They had finished early. She was glad, for making a quick stop at her favorite library had now become a feasible option. It was never easy to go anywhere once classes were over without her mother throwing a fit of panic and calling the school. She would ask them if Poire was okay, if there was a particular reason as to why she had not arrived yet, if something had happened to her. Poire had tried to negotiate, but she quickly learned negotiations with someone who had partially lost their head were not even worth calling a proper conversation.

She grabbed her backpack and stepped out of the school grounds. Poire smiled. For once, it was a real, genuine smile. The wind caressed her face. It smelled like pine trees. I cannot wait, she thought as she marched toward the library farther down the street.

The world was still gray, but, at least there would be a little color on the monochrome pages she held dear to her heart.