The moon rose and off the little girl huffed, up the green grass to sit beneath the lonely pear tree on top of the loneliest hill. Crouched beneath its drooping limbs, hugging tight her knees, she couldn’t tell if she would cry or scream or sink into the earth so deeply to grow wildflowers from her head. “My dear, what’s wrong?”“Nobody listens to me!” Exclaimed the little girl. “Oh, that is har...