A Matter of Importance
The realistic story of a Mary Sue encountering a newsie. Some things in life are just more important than others.
Disclaimer: Technically I own everybody in this story since no specific names are given. However, it's still a Newsies Fan Fiction. Both the young woman and newsie are unnamed and represent all Mary Sues and newsies.
By the way, today's date is 10-10-10. It's the most perfect day to post a story, isn't it?
The young woman walked along with paved sidewalks of New York with nothing more than a silk purse clutched in her hand. Perhaps she should have been escorted by her young beaux or the luxury of a carriage, and she knew this, but the woman felt no fear traveling alone with so many others around her - so many rich others.
She had nothing to fear. Only the wealthy traveled these upper class Manhattan streets. At any given moment dozens of other women like herself past each other and exchanged pleasantries. Men in tailored suites tipped their hats and nodded politely to them as well.
Her polished shoes clicked softly against the pavement as she continued forward beside the stores and sweet shops. Occasionally, the young woman paused to admire the various window displays, but soon continued onward, as if she knew exactly where she was headed.
Another woman in a pastel blue skirt and matching hat smiled politely to her as they passed and left the young lady wondering lightly if they knew each other. Someone dressed that finely ought to be worth knowing, she concluded.
The thought was interrupted with a shout from the street corner. Startled from her own world, the young woman and several other passer byes turned to look at the source.
A newsboy.
Not just any well dressed, rosy cheeked newsboy, but a scrawny, badly dressed, dirt stained youth. All mindsets of the on lookers, including herself, changed from curiosity to disdain.
Of all the wretched things.
At the corner of the street she looked at the boy who stuck out like a sore thumb against the gentlemen in suites and boys in untorn trousers. She glanced over at his ragged attire with distaste. A person like him had no place here.
No doubt he was mildly attractive for a young man, not that the young woman would dare admit aloud. However, in her eyes he was still a boy doing child's work. Perhaps if he bathed, wore a descent set of clothing instead of a shirt stolen from the trash, and found himself a proper occupation, he could be a more handsome youth.
The young man stood patiently, watching the people around him as he held several newspapers. The rest were stacked next to his dirty boots.
He would do better off being subtle, but subtlety was not a newsboy's forte, now was it?
Tact as well. He had every right to be selling on the street corner, though no one thought so.
As she approached, the newsboy spotted her and removed his worn cap with a false smile.
"Good mornin' miss. A pape for the mister?" He offered with a thick street accent. Unaffected by his charms, she moved past him without ever looking the boy's direction. She was appalled. The street wretch dared to speak directly to her. He asked her for money!
Flustered by the encounter, she wondered briefly how anyone could stoop so low in life. Was it possible a newsboy was the lowest of them all? They were children with no future, bound to become drunks and criminals. Newsboys were filthy and abandoned whelps who thrived in the city slums and infested every street corner.
All of them ungoverned, uncivilized children of the streets.
How could any mother condemn her child to such a fate? Those children were born to simply be abandoned in an alley. God forbid she ever did that - when she had children.
Suddenly, a collection of fashionable hats caught the young woman's attention from behind a lovely bay window, She paused remembering her mother's lunch party tomorrow. In all honesty she needed a proper hat to wear, and the ones she owned had already made an appearance once before. What would the other women think of her if she wore them again?
The thought terrified her.
By the time she walked through the door, the newsboy and his petty problems had been forgotten. After all, there were much more important people to think about.
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