You stepped into the light of the sun from the darkness of your two story home. It smelt like rain; a result of the storm last night, contradicting the bright sun today.

You lifted your gown as you stepped, change clinging in your pocket. As you walked down the sidewalk, you thought about what you were plan in to get at the diner. Your mother and father had suggested you grab something to eat while your brother was at school. Of course, you would only wish to go to school. Education was very limited for women in 1806.

You held your gown up, careful as not to dip the fabric into some of the many puddles down the sidewalk. Not soon after, you stepped into a diner that smelt a great deal of pancakes and bacon. There was nothing you loved more than bacon.

You sat down at an empty table in the back corner, right next to the window, taking a book out of your bag, until you started to hear whispers across the small place. You wanted to know the cause. You then realized it was because a colored man, a black man, had came out with a notepad. It seemed as though he worked here. It was very normal for colored people to work at places in the city, but many people considered it dirty for one to work at a restaurant. Nevertheless, he took their orders and they gave it to him, rather disrespectfully. He kept his grin though, and still continued showing respect, even though you could clearly see he was getting annoyed. He didn’t seem to have as much manners as others, but he forced it, surely not to upset the manager.

You thought it was rather weird that he still showed respect to people who made such comments towards him. And as he got closer, you could see him much clearer now. He had quite a handsome face and a muscular build. He looked around your age, 15 or so. He looked clean for a colored person in the 1900s, you guessed the manager didn’t want him scaring away customers.

He walked up, looking down at his notepad, before speaking, and you were a little surprised by his American accent.

“Hello, miss. What can I get for—“

He looked up and was quite astonished by the sight. You were a beautiful women, your blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, and a pink gown that was clear you wore a corset under it. It was required for girls, after all. He cleared his throat.

“Sorry. It’s just— you’re really pretty.” You heard a voice from behind the counter.

“Stop making small talk with the customers, Rayden!”

You heard the boy laugh. “He’s just a bit grumpy today. What can I get for you, miss?”