“My name is Aaliyah Love,” she said, her voice soft but clear as a bell. “And I live at the end of Lily Lane. That lane isn’t just a street. It’s the only place left in this town where the fireflies still come out in June. It’s where the kids learn to ride their bikes because there’s no through traffic. It’s where Ms. Patricia’s roses climb over her fence and into Mr. Jerome’s yard, and he doesn’t cut them down because he likes the color.”
“I’m the one,” she agreed.
“It’s a dream for people,” she replied. aaliyah love lily lane
She paused, looking at her hands.