Tiny Alice had walnut hair, creamy brown shot through with flecks of gold and furrows of mahogany that gave it a wild texture even when neatly combed. She always wore pants because she liked to sit on the ground, and canvas sneakers lovingly illustrated in ballpoint pen, but only on the insole side, which people found weird. Alice liked three quarter length coats and wide pockets to carry lots of things. It was a game to her to drop something in a pocket and try to find a use for it that day, sometimes it took her to unexpected places.
Tiny Alice was often smaller than the canvas she was toting around, painted with block limbed people, whose silhouettes were suggestively animal. She herself could easily translate to a Hello Kitty. People might talk to her like a cartoon character, which only made her feel more cartoonish. She explored the more surreal nature of herself because people allowed it, but she sometimes struggled with what people allowed and what they expected. They always looked a little dismayed at her sensibility, disappointed that she wasn’t as chaotic as they had hoped.
“The truth is,” was her favorite way to start a sentence. “The truth is, I get just a little bored being here.” She said looking around the gym. “The truth is, I make up little games all day.” She always had a few good friends, and a few guys who really wanted to take her out. She sat down on the polyurethaned wood which picked up the overhead lights the same way as her brown-gold hair, and took her foot into her lap to start intently doodling. She looked up at me and said “I think we’re going to be here for awhile.” Tiny Alice put her shoes on the wrong feet, which people found weird, but made sense if you thought about it.
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