06-21-2020, 01:34 PM
Abilene Kildare was nervous.
It had been only a week or so since she returned to Whitby after many years of absence, and she'd been delaying going out into town because she was worried she wouldn't be recognized- or, worse, that she would. She'd had a good amount of friends here in her childhood, and she remembered their faces well and was sure she'd know them if she came upon them, but would they ever remember her? She'd been a rather small, stocky girl when she'd moved to London at twelve years old, and since then, she'd grown up into a young woman who, when seeing herself in the mirror, blushed at how her face was much prettier than she'd expected it to become. In London, she'd had quite a few fellows, some her age and some as old as sixty, coming to her grandmother's home to ask to court her, calling her beautiful and gorgeous and lovely, but Abilene wasn't much inclined to those men. If they only sought her for her looks, that of which she recognized as attractive but always blushed when told so, a humble girl, she didn't want their attention.
Drawing her scarf, knitted by her sister as a farewell present before she left London, tighter around her neck, Abilene took a deep breath of the crisp winter-sea air. She stood in her doorway for a moment, collecting her thoughts, before venturing out into the streets. Although she'd lived on the other side of town as a child, she'd explored most of town with her friends and so followed a long-remembered path through downtown to the marketplace her parents' shop resided in. It was still here, surprisingly similar to what she recalled, and she walked slowly into the crowd of people going about their days, shopping and chattering with each other. Her gaze scanned the crowd and locked on the face of someone she remembered well. Could it be?
It had been only a week or so since she returned to Whitby after many years of absence, and she'd been delaying going out into town because she was worried she wouldn't be recognized- or, worse, that she would. She'd had a good amount of friends here in her childhood, and she remembered their faces well and was sure she'd know them if she came upon them, but would they ever remember her? She'd been a rather small, stocky girl when she'd moved to London at twelve years old, and since then, she'd grown up into a young woman who, when seeing herself in the mirror, blushed at how her face was much prettier than she'd expected it to become. In London, she'd had quite a few fellows, some her age and some as old as sixty, coming to her grandmother's home to ask to court her, calling her beautiful and gorgeous and lovely, but Abilene wasn't much inclined to those men. If they only sought her for her looks, that of which she recognized as attractive but always blushed when told so, a humble girl, she didn't want their attention.
Drawing her scarf, knitted by her sister as a farewell present before she left London, tighter around her neck, Abilene took a deep breath of the crisp winter-sea air. She stood in her doorway for a moment, collecting her thoughts, before venturing out into the streets. Although she'd lived on the other side of town as a child, she'd explored most of town with her friends and so followed a long-remembered path through downtown to the marketplace her parents' shop resided in. It was still here, surprisingly similar to what she recalled, and she walked slowly into the crowd of people going about their days, shopping and chattering with each other. Her gaze scanned the crowd and locked on the face of someone she remembered well. Could it be?
