It was 1914.

It had been a cold fall morning in New York City that day. Dead leaves brushing up against windows as they piled against the brick walls of the school.

Amelia waited patiently by the backdoor within the kitchen as she looked out the window, tapping her nails against her own hand as she sighed heavily.

She had this... affection for the milkman for about a year now which was quite mutual but neither ever acknowledged it out loud at least. They would simply flirt and blush as they interacted. Much too embarrassed and perhaps frightened of their own feelings.