The heels of my shoes echo Through the hall as I traverse the corridor leading to the boudoir of my young master. Upon entering, I draw back the curtains with a genteel flourish, allowing the gentle morning light to filter into the room, rousing him from his sleep. rushing toward the wardrobe, I retrieve his garments, suitably for the day ahead

“good morning young master for today’s breakfast you have freshly squeezed orange juice, scrambled eggs, toast with sausage bits on top”