What is so divine about them? She didn’t know how to pinpoint it exactly.
Oh it was everything. Everything!
The effortless way their hair cascaded down past their shoulders. Their skin so soft and smooth and blemish free. The way their eyes were so clear and their eyelashes so full.
The way their bodies carried their garments. So elegant. Slender. Graceful.
No effort in the pristine way they put one booted foot before another.
Their smiles lit up their whole faces.
Their fingers, so ladylike in the way they curled around a gleaming glass or held a pendant up to their throats. Stockings. Gloves. Scarves wafting sweet scents on the night breeze. Red lips, glittering earrings swinging gently from their ears, tear drops of gold.
She caught glimpses of their fabulous lives before the curtains were drawn in the twilight, as the street lamps were lit one by one. She saw flashes of their finery beneath cloaks as they were helped aboard coaches. She was amongst their feet, crawling in the squelchy mud and manure of the streets.
She knew all too well how she blended in with the dark grey cobbles and the brown mud. Her apron was always soaked and dirty and her hair, like spun gold when she managed to wash it, was always a dusty hue that faded into the perpetual cloud that hung over the city.
Oh, how she longed to be like them. To be courted and smiled at. To have all eyes on her as she stepped onto a gleaming marble floor in the prettiest shoes imaginable. To have her small, rough, brown paws covered in a sleek satin glove. To carry a frilly white parasol, and have some dashing gentleman’s arm to lean on.
How she longed.