The boy looked fragile. A good dozen metaphors about melting snow, withering leaves threatening to fall to the weakest breeze, and stuff like that could apply to him.

"I..." he began, small jaw shaking. "I--I really... um," but then, he caught himself. Hesitation, fear. "Well, it's not like a ghost. I'm alive. I just... can't get out of the park on my own. But he has something that I gave him and is part of the park. So I can roam around him... I can go anywhere the garden goes."

He breathed deep. "But I really should go. I just wanted to come tell that jerk to take better care of him--his plants. Um, thanks for the cake... and the milk. I really appreciate it, miss."