Clara was walking around the garden.
She was thinking about her granny, about uncle Roger adn his prickly bristle, about a story she had just read.
Suddenly she heard a weird sound.
It was coming from the small cosy arbour.
Clara came to the arbour and cautiously looked into.
There was a little girl shedding so bitterly that Clara just couldn't leave her alone.
- Why are you crying? - she asked.
The girl stoped crying and stared at Clara.
Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes swelled, her dress was absolutely rumpled and one stoking was torn.
- What's happend?
- asked Clara again in a such soothing voice she was able to do.
- Nothing,- answered the girl, stopping criying.
She inquisitevly looked at Clara. - I know you!
- she exclamed suddenly, so unexpectedly that Clara sprang back.
- You are queer Clara!
- Not more queer than you, - sniffed Clara.
- Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't want to offend you, - sad girl in a timid voice, - but all my friends call you this way.
- I don't care about it.
Why were you crying?
- Clara repeated again.
- I was just upset.
Suddenly they heard indistinct patting and rustling of grass.
July 2015
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