The March Fairy
Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky.
At least, that was how Annabelle always envisioned them. Though it was painful for her to admit, she was achingly envious of the three girls who lived down the street - desirous of the way they laughed and twirled in their exquisite, lavender tutus. There was a certain magic about the way that their violet, pristine skirts flashed against the large, pastel-pink of the house on the corner. As she watched them, her heart often burned with an insatiable longing.
