I realized I was fading away one summer morning when my socks were a translucent gray instead of smoky black. Claire had been whisked out of bed and out the door before I had realized it. Confused, I scratched my vivid purple hair and adjusted my sky blue dress.

Claire had thought me up one lazy spring day. When we were still young, we would play all day in whatever ditch, field, or forest we could find. Nowadays, she disappeared every morning and, when she returned, she walked past without even a glance. As the leaves fell, I slowly faded away. Soon, my shirt was only a whisper of blue and my hair an echo of purple. One peculiar day, I watched as two girls arrived at our house. Claire led them upstairs to her room where they talked, giggled, and played dress-up for hours. Late at night, they whispered in hushed tones about secrets I didn’t know about. When they finally fell asleep, I crept closer to Claire. A small smile was still on her face as she slept peacefully. At that moment, I understood. With a wistful sigh, I faded away into fond childhood memories.