“This makes no sense,” Tulla said. She’d said about five times up to that point, as if repeating the statement would manifest someone who would then make it make sense. But that wasn’t going to happen because it did not make sense.
The locket on the sidewalk was not a picture. It also wasn’t a mirror, yet it was a reflection. Just of someplace that didn’t exist. Not here. There was no body of water for many miles, and no buildings that intact for many more. What was this? Where was this?
Tulla didn’t want to touch the locket. To do so might — what? She didn’t know. Break the spell? Make it even clearer that this was not normal? Transport her away?
No, it was too small for that, right? Just bigger than her thumb. Not portrait sized or closet sized or window sized. Not big enough to crawl through.
Realizing that made her so deeply sad all the sudden that she stood up, ready to run. Escaping this feeling, this object.
Then I might never see it again.
“This. Makes. No. Sense!” she screamed.
A distant voice asked: “But why should it?”