Prologue

It is a curious thing; how friendships are born. Unlikely, for the most part. Almost always unprecedented. Sometimes, though, friends are fated to meet.

It began with a stranger. A stranger with dirt matted in the grooves of his skin and a photo clutched in his hand.

It ended with death. Like many things do.

***

For Maria, the world seemed an impossibly big place. And it was bound to, seeing as she was only seven years old. But on the day the Wrinkled Man showed up at her house, she had gotten a sense that things may not be the same ever again.