My name is Frances. I’m sitting in the back seat of Mr. Giordano’s car, and next to me is Ciccio, my best friend.
Ciccio isn’t a doll or a stuffed animal, but he’s not a real child either—and I’m the only one who can be close to him, who can help him.
He’s very shy; he’s afraid of everything.
Right now, he’s looking out the window with his scared eyes and holding my hand because it comforts him, makes him feel safe.
I don’t have a family, and neither does he. I don’t remember my father, and I haven’t seen my mother in four years.
I draw her often so I won’t forget her—anyway, they say we look exactly alike, like two drops of water