It’s raining in the city.
It’s a gentle downpour, a rush of water that whispers softly. A summer rain, that dusts the city with sprinkles of water. Blowing through like a song, a light sighing of the sky.
Andrew Lott stares up at the gray-white sky, holding a black umbrella. The cars rush by like wind. The street looks like shiny metal on a subway railing.
Sitting on the very edge of a roof of a brownstone building, a little girl looks down, dressed like a harlequin clown in a dress as red as blood.
She’s crying and smiling.
“It’s you,” says the police investigator, tired.
She looks at him silently. Then she pushes herself off the roof.
The Investigator watches, transfixed, at the phantom floating gently down from the roof of the five story building, through windows, through doors, through the fire escape and flowerpots, seeming to land on the stoop. Her blond curls do not move as she sadly looks at him.
“I know,” says Andrew Lott.
She turns and runs down into the subways. Lott follows. Alice in her red dress. 24 hours… 24 hours before someone dies here. Alice stands on the edge of the platform before it falls into the deep black, filthy tracks, gives him a mournful glance and fades away into the damp darkness of the subway tunnel.
Andrew Lott closes his eyes. He makes the call.
An Invisible Shapeshifter Community Member 
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Community Member