The party looked at the little girl splayed on the floor, clutching the homemade crayons in her small fists. They remembered the child who had cheerfully run her mother’s shop while her mother had to tend to a baby brother; the bouncing, joyful, little girl who had helped them pick out coats and shyly asked if she could draw them sometime. When she looked back up at them it was Avdite, not Lina, who existed in the childlike frame. They had to wonder if they would ever get their favorite little fan back.












