Sometimes, perhaps once in a blue moon, someone would walk up to him and speak to him as if he wasn’t Clue Leverett. It wasn’t that he was well-known, or any semblance of that; it was just that he was different, and evidently so. A strange, quirky little loner, who looked like a girl, sitting on the grass in the drizzle and playing with a spider. Anyone who approached Clue was quite different themselves.

Through long strands of platinum hair, Clue looked up at the approaching girl. He recognised her freckled face and vibrant aura, but did not know her name. ”It’s beginning to rain”, he observed in case she hadn’t noticed, alerting her to the possibility that she might want to flee for cover.

He was under a tree, and that was cover — but nobody chose Clue Leverett over familiar grounds. Not until that blue moon shows up again.