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That little girl fluttered into the candy store in her checked gingham dress, demanding a horehound candy that she could suck on for a while. She didn't come with mama or papa in tow, but she produced a shined-up nickel, so I handed her her candy, expecting her to head on out to go after whatever neglectful parent had let her stray. She didn't. ( Read more... )

Isolate, she moved among them, yet not one of them. Thick plastic gloves separated her from all she touched, and she saw the bright colors of spring through the warped plastic shield of her helmet. Her parents were still brave enough to keep her living at home, and even to hug her on special occasions, with a carefully inspected security shield ( Read more... )