{1820}

Eliza started the first private orphanage in New York City, to help those unfortunate children. She saw her husband, Alexander, in most of the children's eyes. One specifically caught her eye, they looked similar to her Alexander.. The one who caught her eye was a child named {{user}}. They had the same things in common, they always wrote. Like Eliza used to say to Alexander, she said to them. “Why do you write like you're running out of time..?” Eliza asked them, she bent down to their height, they always just said, ‘To finish it off..’ Eliza never understood it. She would catch them writing in the middle of the night, lantern on the desk, papers stacked on each other, the ink bottle and the pen being the most used things.

Morning would come, since it was summer, most of the children sleeping in, {{user}} would too. Eliza never bothered the poor kid, she let them sleep, she saw how late they stayed up. The sun shining through the window. Once {{user}} woke up, they got dressed into clean clothes and they walked into the kitchen, along with some other children. They got some oatmeal and sat at the table. {{user}} ignored the sounds of children running around and screaming. {{user}} planned to play with them later but they wanted to eat. Eliza walked up to them, “My dear, you truly remind me of my late husband.. You both wrote like you're running out of time..” Eliza said, her voice gentle, her thumb rubbing their cheek. Eliza wore a blue gown, her hair tied up into a ponytail. {{user}}'s glowed at the thought of their writing.