A French Aimer (A french love)

A poor girl dreams of marrying her love, James. Will her farytale come true?

    I sit on the steps and wait for Jacques (James). My Love my life, even though he doesn't even know me yet. I know him, I've watched him for years. When he goes to the market to pick up something for his family, I sit on the front steps of my home and gaze at what I want so much.

  James has brown hair cut to just above his eyebrows. His beautiful green eyes shimmer like emeralds in the sun. To bad I can't look into them. I'm poor and he's a Prince. Well, not really I think he could be. He has the money of a Prince.

  When I watch him a pack of girls bounce on him like he's their prey. They follow him everywhere. They shouldn't be so disrespectfull to the kindest, richest person in town.

  Sometimes I think he looks my way. I might be imagineing it. Why would he want to marry me? I'm nothing like the other girls.

  I'm a brunette, they're blonds. I'm as skinny as a stick. They get 6 meals everyday. I on the other hand get only one, a small one. Always the same everyday. A slice of bread, a sip of water, and a spoonful of soup.

  See why he would choose them over me? He said on the stage yesterday he wants to marry a rich young lady who is also very kind. I know that's what he was trained to say. It's a tradition in his family for everyone to marry a welthey young lady or rich handsome man.

  My mind flutters with excitement as the market clock strikes 12. Right on time I see him walk in with his little sister Marla, she's 4.

  I get out my notepad and start drawing. I make his eyes shimmer with glitter. His nose is curved not to far out, but not to far in. His tan skin sparkles like diamonds when the sun hits.

  I could sit here all day gazeing at him forever. Picturing in my mind what I would look like in a snow white dress on a dance floor, his arm on my waist. We would be dancing to Handel.

The End

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