I see her and drop before her, her face literally white, and her lips white on the outside and pink-ish inside. I swallow and scoop her up, "Halee?" I shake her, "Wake up."
She doesn't move and I shake her again.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. But she had wings. — Dean Jackson