It was The Wardrobe.Slowly, reverantly, I opened one of the doors. But instead of wintercoats, there were little girl dresses hanging in The Wardrobe....Eventhough they were all too small for me, I still found myself admiringthem and wishing I could try them on.Then the voice came to me. Well, not actually a voice, but a sort of...thought. It was the same thought that had brought me to this warehouse,this crate, and this wardrobe. The thought was saying, I must moveforward. With my heart thumping. But please, don’t be afraid of me.” My voice caught in my throat, and damning tears of both impotent rage and frustration, sprung to my eyes. I heard only the soft rustle of her dress scape against the chair, and found myself enveloped in her arms. Horrified at this act of clemency and compassion, I sobbed into her breast. She cradled me in her arms, gently rocking me. After a while, I was in a position to actually engage once again. “Tony, why does it matter what I think?” I stared mutely at. More

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