Sylva talks to shadows. Not because she’s lonely, but because they’re excellent listeners.
She lives near the back windows of the tailor’s shop, where the light is soft and the gossip is excellent. She loves stories – especially the kind people almost say out loud. When the room falls quiet, Sylva leans forward just slightly, as if to say, “Go on…”
She’s shaped like a secret – smooth in the middle, wide with ideas at the top. Her glow always shows up just before someone’s about to say something important.
She once tried to follow Duckpea out of town but forgot her charging cord. That didn’t stop her. She came back two days later with a poem, three pine needles, and a new favourite colour.
No one’s quite sure how she knows what she knows.
But if you tell her something – really tell her – she’ll remember.
And she’ll never interrupt.
