1962 Paris The street lamps withered underneath the falling freckles of snow.

It was unbearably cold but Alice stood on her dirtied shoes, her toes exposed. She had to appear taller but she couldn't even reach the chin of the boy who stood in front of her. It was Henley who dared her to go to Rue Clarence. "It only takes a shake," Michael offered his calloused hand. "I know that! Why do you think I'm here?" Alice quavered as she clutched Monie, her straw doll to her chest. In fact, shes been thinking about it for a while now. A black automobile drove past the two children without a second glance. Alice crossed her fingers and drew her hand. She had to do it, if not for her, then for Mother. Michaels greasy smile almost made her regret her decision. Welcome to Rue Clarence, La Rue de la Mort.