Maybelline shook in the cold, her bare feet going numb. She wrapped her torn brown shawl tighter around her thin body. It was getting late and she hadn't sold a single flower. She couldn't go home. If she had gone home without any money, her father would surely beat her. And she could already hear her sisters scorning her:
"She doesn't care for this family," Seraphina would say.
"Honestly, Mum, why do we even keep her around?" Fae would ask.
Why me, Maybelline thought miserably. Why do Mum and Daddy make me go out here everyday. I understand Kingsley and Truman have jobs, but why does Mum insist on letting Seraphina and Fae stay home everyday?
Six months it had been since her family's home was taken away and they were forced to live in that tiny apartment. She had spent last New Years Eve with her family at the party they would host every year. This year, she had spent her whole day wandering about London trying to sell flowers.
She took shelter in a little nook between two stores.
She was a sorry sight. Her shoes had fallen off somewhere and were lost in the snow. Her big brown eyes had tears coming out of them leaving stains on her red cheeks. She was wearing a long brown dress that had been used in a costume for a school play. Her black gloves did little good as they were fingerless. Her brown hair was matted and tangled.
The wind blew off the petals of a chrysanthemum. But instead of flying away, the chrysanthemums swirled around, and in the wall the building formed a dining room. Not just any dining room, the one that used was in her old home.
Maybelline walked into the dining room and her brown dress turned into an elegant black one. She took her spot at the table, right next to her father, who sat at the head of the table.
There was food on the table. Delicious food. She remembered the meals Cook used to make. Maybelline closed her eyes and breathed in the scent delicious food.
When Maybelline opened her eyes, she was back out in the cold. She sighed sadly.
A few moments past, then, the orchid leaves were blown away, swirled around the wall and the wall led to the living room of her old living room. There was a grand Christmas in the center of the room and her parents were smiling and sitting on the couch watching their children oped presents. Maybelline smiled and went into the room, her clothes changing into her old pink satin pajamas. She kneeled down in front of the Christmas tree and began opening her presents.
She received a new iPhone, a new flat screen television for her bedroom, a new digital camera, and some new clothes by Chanel and Burberry. When she was done opening them, she went up to her parents.
"Thank you, Mum," said Maybelline. "Thank you, Daddy."
Her parents smiled as Maybelline gave them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek. How good and loving her parents were back then.
A cold wind brought Maybelline back to reality. She looked at the wall in front of her. There was no living room in there.
She looked up at the sky. A shooting star passed. When she was little, her family used to say that it is a soul who had just died.
The wind blew off rose petals. The petals swirled around the wall and revealed the courtyard, and standing in the courtyard of her old home, was Rutherford Stevens.
"Rutherford," Maybelline squealed with delight.
Rutherford smiled and opened his arms.
Maybelline walked through the wall, her dress turning into a strapless gold sequined maxi dress, her shawl turning turning black with no holes, and her hair in a fancy updo. She began running to him, the sound of her gold high heels clicking against the stone path. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Oh, how I've missed you," Maybelline said.
"You saw only twenty minutes ago," Rutherford said, laughing.
Maybelline smiled sadly.
"It feels like it's been forever for me," said Maybelline.
"Take a walk with me," Rutherford requested.
Maybelline smiled and nodded. Rutherford offered his arm and Maybelline gladly accepted it, and they began their walk around the courtyard.
After about ten minutes, Rutherford stopped and had Maybelline sit on the stone bench. Rutherford took to one knee and pulled out a beautiful diamond ring.
"Maybelline Elaine Merritt, will you do me the honor of being my wife?" Rutherford asked.
Maybelline was so happy, she started tearing up.
"Yes, Rutherford," said Maybelline. "Yes, I will."
Rutherford smiled a goofy smile and stood up. He grabbed Maybelline's hand and she stood up as well. Rutherford spun her around. This made Maybelline laugh.
Rutherford held her cheeks and leaned in. Maybelline closed her eyes and leaned in as well, but the kiss never cames.
When Maybelline opened her eyes, she was back out on the street. The tears now poured out of her eyes. Rutherford was gone He had been gone for months. Her dear Rutherford had died the previous February in a car accident, and it had been torture for Maybelline to be parted with him for so long.
"Oh, my dear Rutherford," Maybelline sobbed. "We were to be married by now. And now you are gone and I am poor. Oh, why is life so cruel?"
It was pitch black outside now. Perhaps she should start heading home. But she never got the chance. In the wall in front of her, a bright light formed. In that light stood Rutherford. He looked very handsome, with a face that smiled at her, something she had not seen in a very long time. He held out his hand. Maybelline smiled, stood, and accepted his hand. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed.
"Oh, Rutherford," said Maybelline, "how wonderful it is to see you again."
"I have missed you, too, Maybelline," said Rutherford.
At the stroke of midnight, the bright light disappeared, taking Maybelline and Rutherford with it. A shooting star flew over London.
The next morning, Maybelline's brother Truman was going to work. He passed by the little nook where his sister had been in. He saw her frozen body with a smile on her face, and brought her home. Her parents were saddened because they knew that they were the reason she had ended up like this, but smiled because they knew, because of that smile on her face, she was happy again.
