She called my name from a box in a flea market. This tiny tintype image of a girl. A girl that is not happy to be there, at that moment, sitting very, very still, wearing the hat. The hat her mother bought for her with egg money.
Was it the blushed cheeks? The tilted hat? The pin curls? The too large for her body folded hands? Or the possible outlines of a Hitchcock chair? I am not sure what exactly enticed me to bring her home for a $1.
Maybe it was the soulful eyes?
What is her story?