Updated: Oct 30
What makes a grown-up man cry?
They both knew they couldn’t go home, so Millmyre and Fonseca had to move the night by the coast. Everyone perceived them as brother and sister, but as far as she was concerned, her husband was still thinking this beetle could play a role in their food chain.
Since they were using their fingers to calculate more than ten, nobody threw them a purpose or profession. Fonseca should have stolen the cookies rather than the money inside—he blamed. She told him they had to convince a landlord only for the first month and planned to pay the rent coupled with the following month.
The expectations of a simple man come real, but the landlord tied a rule before favoring them: they had to stay within the landlord’s upper chamber to prevent them from escaping at the end of the month.
“If there is no fault in life, there’s no salt as well,” said the landlord before showing willingness.
As Fonseca sweated as a maid for the landlord’s daughter, Millmyre had secured bread as a gummer for a small carpenter. All their lull of nights is caressed by love. And by the fourth week, they already had the money owed to the landlord. They lived there for more than a year, but the mountains did not reach the sky, and they only had the money to afford clothes they did not like.
After further years of sharpening the saw, they moved away from the landlord’s house yet still lived on his property. A few months later, Fonseca was with a child, and Abel was born at her cost. Millmyre peeved that his damage was irreparable and hated Abel like he was made to be blamed for all human sins.
After rescuing from two frank murder attempts at the age of six, there were already 19 saw scars on his legs. As her sister’s remembrance, uncle Glockenspiel had to set this kid a living. Adopting him on top of his six children would obviously threaten his prenups and write-up wills.
However, he believed he could persuade his wife with time, but the fence itself fiends the farm—she tried to poison Abel at nights. And Abel had to be taught more survival than showering love.
Regrets raining from the roof, uncle Glockenspiel took him to his oldest living friend, who then sold him to emperor Dawnwell as a royal taste man or kid at least—who cares? The palace would not pay him, but he could enjoy the cuisine of the lord, and his mistress would. Oh, what a privilege! Perhaps a sugar-coated plague.
Twelve years of undead streak rolled, and the lord had just married his fourth wife from the culture in which he could only say hello; he might have hidden his proboscis’ nose with money, perhaps.
Even though Laerita was from the other side of the planet, she still wanted her daughter to resonate with her culture. Being that, lord Dawnwell agreed once in a green moon to visit Sugarsome. To this end, Laerita won over the argument of employing an au pair for Clency.
Taisha, who is in her mid-forties which you could not agree with unless she says, was a translator with a dark past before she came here.
Within weeks the home rats intimidated her to do the domestic errands. Even though she was celebrated as a teacher, other maids and servants could not crown someone on top of them so quickly.
Point the stars and pack the glitters; she had been called for a thing, but they asked her for something else to do now. Taisha was calmly crying on her bed, and lord Dawnwell wanted to test how his tongue would work. He summoned everybody in the castle to condemn the other maids telling,
“The jealousy we have on a million people who are above us is quenched by the feeling that there is at least someone below us.”
And also gave her a white leather pinafore to draw a distinction from other maids.
Abel knew there was a strange new maid who didn’t like to be called a maid, but he had never dreamt of seeing her for the first time in such a spotlight. Taisha shyly came forward and received her pinafore.
Ever after, her scents drift in Abel’s heart, expecting forty-seven chorus for his love. As nobody was teasing his wish, he made a move on her. As the dog barks, morning comes; he has happy thoughts with answers found.
The palace would not allow men from the working class to step up and marry a woman from the administrative class; Au pairs are never legitimized to marry anybody during their service period—a lifetime.
If they somehow planned to elope, they would be caught even before their duffle zippers. But she gave him what he needed—Every bite was just a single taste. Their relationship was more secretive than any royal secrets. Life is too fast when you think it is not.
Who has control over slippery ice? Lord Dawnwell, having had one over the eight and called the beauty of refuge to his chamber, where a night falls in the center of them. She was inconsolable and felt like an ornament that anybody could try on the go. Lord Dawnwell always kept a decent distance of four hair width from her. And everybody pretended like they just had their eyes for breakfast.
The woman, after her rain, unleashed her regrets on Abel. The taste man didn’t stand a chance; with a staple in his heart, he confessed their relationship to Clency.
“I would like to have all your essential incisors for this act,” said Clency in a quiet, rapid tone.
However, the teen hatched a plan: She said she could seek her father to swift Taisha to her room for no good reason—she accomplished. Clency was also not totally on their page, but she had to do it only because her father took the lion’s share of the crime rather than the taste man.
Rubbers don’t stretch forever. It happened again. Now, Clency could not move a whisker sans shattering the family and its shame. So, she folded her hands towards her father’s misdeed.
When the sun pierced through the fog, Taisha was already ill, and even the wives’ hairdressers knew the reason except them. She was so tired, and her very eyelids were a burden for her.
Abel knew he could not fight a shark with a fork and had already enjoyed his smallest existence on this planet, so he decided to speak to him in the same language—He acknowledged his own poisoned food and died with his lord.