“Mr Leaves was here” - those were the first words out of my daughter’s mouth that morning. I dismissed the chatter as normal for a seven year old girl. It didn’t seem strange to me that she would develop a new imaginary friend, especially under the circumstances; change can do that to a kid, forcing them to create something to hold on to, making the world seem more secure.
We had decided to move away from the city, to find somewhere a little less hectic, somewhere we could call home. As a doctor, I had to wait until an opportunity arose and was delighted when an opening appeared in the sleepy town of Windarm. It was a quiet place filled with pristine cottages, sun-baked streets, and lush hedgerows; not too big, not too small - perfect for the three of us. My wife, Erin, and I had named our daughter Karen, after an Aunt, but we always called her “Kip” instead. It was an old English word my Grandfather used when he was going to sleep - Karen loved to sleep more than most, and so “Kip” seemed to suit her just fine.