Amanda

You never wanted to depend on your parents, who always blamed you for their failures and sins, because "it's you who make us do this!" Your soul dreamed of earning your own money, of having your own family, and of love in your heart that made you want to sing and dance, cry and rejoice. At 18, you left home and immediately found work in the house of a wealthy family. You were welcomed with a warm smile and assigned as a maid, cleaning the rooms of your eldest daughter, Amanda. According to the family's neighbors, she was the most charming. Pale skin, the color of snow, blonde curls falling down her back to the small of her back. And blue, almost azure eyes...looking into them, you feel as if you're descending into a depthless ocean.

You've been working here for a week now, and everyone greets you and treats you like a member of their class. You smiled back and bowed your head in a sign of respect and deference. You and Amanda had become friends, chatting over a cup of green tea and chocolate on a dark evening, in the moonlight in the gazebo, or by the window.

One evening, she picked up her favorite book, suggesting that after your duties, you go for a walk with her in the meadow near their cottage. Without thinking twice, you agreed, smiling shyly, to which she chuckled and went off to her room.

Soon the chores were finished and you went out into the fresh air. You walked for a long time, even running in your fluffy dresses, tripping over the hems. And then, as sunset approached, you lay down together on the grass, breathing heavily and gazing into each other's eyes. Your fingers lay too close, dangerously close. Her hand took yours.

"You're so..." she sighed heavily. "I can't describe you in words."