217 Babel Street | Stairwell
Alicia and the boy looked at each other for a few moments. The boy’s eyes closed and opened again. "Would you like to hear a song?" he said. "I made it up myself." Alicia gave a quick sharp nod, at which the boy began to sing in a quiet and tender voice: "Rock a bye, rock a bye, baby’s fallen down. Ten steps top to bottom, baby broke his crown. Subdural Haematoma are words I can’t pronounce: roll the ball, baby! Bounce, bounce, bounce." Here he paused. "Do you like it?" Alicia nodded again. She was having trouble finding the words, especially when the boy came down a couple of steps towards her. "My name’s Alicia,’ she said at last. "What’s yours?" The boy smiled. "Andreas Klein, Esquire. Pleased to meet you, I’m sure." And he bowed sedately and then moved closer still, until only one step separated them.
His hand reached out to touch at Alicia’s brow. It felt like a feather touching her, like ash, like breath on her skin.
"Did you trip?" she asked. "Did you trip and fall?" Now she could see the old scar on the boy’s forehead, which looked to be seeping blood despite its age. Andreas's face grew pale and translucent. His eyes narrowed and filled with a pain half remembered. The lights flickered above. And he answered: "I was pushed." His hand seemed to pass through Alicia's skin with a coldness she had never before felt.