I wasn't expecting much, but when that old bus pulled up in front of the Mystery Shack, it was a sad sight to see when the little 12-year old girl stepped off all by herself. She had an ugly green hat on her head, a duffel bag in one hand, and an overstuffed plush sheep in the other. When she got off the bus, she just stood there, like she had nowhere to go, and nobody cared.
"Mabel?" I called. The girl looked up at me. She reminded me of her mother at that age, the soft brown hair that reached down to her waist and the big chocolate eyes, but unlike her mother, there was no sparkle in those eyes. Instead they looked sad, almost pleading for something, something she knew no one could giver her.
"Uncle Stan?" She asked in a voice I wasn't sure was wary or weary.
"Yep, that's me, call me your Grunkle," I said brightly, which felt awkward in front of her, "'Cuz I'm your great uncle, and when you put them together, eheh, yeah."
Her face didn't change, and I only felt more and more strange standing before her as there was an uncomfortable silence between us.
"Is it just you?" I asked. It seemed strange to see just her there, it felt like something was missing, "No siblings or anything?"
"No," she said, holding her stuffed toy tighter to her body, "I'm an only child."