do you know?

Do you know how I fell in love with you?

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I saw you through a window. You were not alone, but with your blond friend, and you were laughing together. You had crinkles at the corners of your eyes, and your mouth was formed into a smile. That sweet smile pierced my heart, and I was lost, with no way to find myself.

Love is so very simple, you see.

You don’t know me yet. You don’t know how I watch for you from the window, if only to see you for an instant. You don’t know that I let myself dream of speaking to you, just once. You don’t know how I hate myself for thinking about something so impossible. You don’t know how many times I look through the window, and see you smiling.

But you’re not smiling at me.

 

 

 

the girl

Hi there!

The Girl, which is a tentative title, was a story I just jotted down for fun. There might continuations of the story, and I may change the name at a later date, but for now, please enjoy!

Oh, and please tell me what you think about it in the comments. 🙂

Now, on to The Girl!

 

 

Victorian Lady Image Velvet

The Girl

 

 

I first saw her on a cold, bleak day last fall.

Her hands, red and chapped, clutched her her shawl around her. Long black hair hung down her back in tangles, and her dress was none too clean. I couldn’t blame her. No doubt she wished for a bath, and a clean set of clothes, but in harsh London, she couldn’t even find a place to stay, let alone bathe, as shown by her makeshift home in the alley between two buildings.

A ragged blanket spread on the cobblestones. A huddled figure. A life.

Or, maybe…two lives.

Her swollen belly was a burden, I could tell. An unwanted one.

Her shoulders were hunched, her head hanging, and bitterness surrounded her.

I stepped forward, and my basket hit the wall next to me with a slight thud.

She glanced at me then, a sneer on her lips, before she stood, grabbed a basket held together by a few pieces of thread, and turned away from me.

My curiosity now awakened, I followed her covertly down the narrow street, pulling my cloak tighter around me to keep out the biting cold.

She reached the end of the street, which turned onto a busier road. The woman-the girl- never hesitated, but hurried out into the wave of people. I nearly ran to keep sight of her, wishing my foot didn’t slow me down so much, and hoping to help her, if I could. People shoved me aside, and I was not tall enough or strong enough to force my way through, having a hard enough time trying to keep my heavy skirts from being trampled. The yelling deafened me, and I struggled to make my way through. My toes ached from being tread upon.

By the time I caught up to her, I was desperate to get out of the crowd. This time, not willing to lose her again, I grabbed her arm.

“Whadda’ya want?” she snapped at me, her head high and her eyes dark with anger.

“I…just want…to-” I stumbled over my words, thrown off by her biting tongue.

“I don’t need yer help, if thet’s what yer stutterin’ on about.” She nearly bared her teeth at me.

“Please,” I said. I had, by now, suffered far too much personal harm to fail. “I don’t mean any offence, b-but I was going to give this to my sister, and-well, she had no need of it.” I pulled a small pouch out of my pocket. “And I don’t want to take it home again.”

“What is it?” She asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Just a few coins.” I pressed the pouch into her left had, ignoring the almost unreadable expression on her face, and left, having done all I could.

 

I had forgotten about the note.

I never saw her again. The months passed, and the days grew shorter as winter grew deeper. January, February, March, and finally April came, with hardly any change. Often my thoughts would drift to her, the young mother, lost in the frozen world. I wondered if I had done any good. I wondered if she was dead.

It was on April 30 that it happened. I had returned from a walk in the park, now that it was slightly warmer than it had been lately. As I neared my home, I saw a small bundle on the doorstep. I ran forward, ignoring curious looks from a few passerbys. Kneeling on the cold stone, I bent over the bundle, and gazed down into the face of a new born child. I gasped. The baby’s face was wrinkled, and and nearly blue with cold. I picked up the bundle, and opened the door. Once inside, I lay the baby down on a table.

“Alice!” I called, needing my maid’s assistance.

“Yes, miss?” Alice entered, and, when she saw me, hurried over. “Oh, dear!” She said, aghast.

I began to rub the child, who was barely breathing. My heart began to race and ache. What if the baby died?

“Call Dr. Rolf, Alice.”

***

Two hours later, the child lay in a small basket padded with a cushion and a few small blankets. The little boy was wrapped warmly in a soft cover, the doctor successfully having revived the nearly dead boy. Relief filled me.

“He’ll be all right,” said the doctor, packing up his things.

“Thank-you, Dr. Rolf.” I gazed down at the young child. “Can I hold him?” I asked, turning to the doctor.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “That would be fine. I’ll return this evening to see how he is doing.”

I carefully lifted the little boy, and held him in my arms. He stirred a little, and opened his eyes . They were blue, a bright, radiant blue.

There was a note that had fallen to the floor when I brought him in.

“Please,” it said, “Please keep him safe.”

I didn’t doubt who had brought him.