Stephanie thompson
Dear Diary,
I cannot find the words to describe what the day brought; it was indeed a great surprise.
I had been in the town, heading towards the market, when I saw my dear friend 'Melia; it had been years- and it was a shock when I saw her up close.
Last time I saw 'Melia, it was when she left the farm against all of our wishes; dressed in her dirty, tattered dress. But now, here she was!
She was dressed in a beautiful gown of silk, a hat rested upon her dark curls, and bracelets on her wrists. It wasn't, however, these things that shocked me the most- it was her soft skin, and small, delicate hands hidden in gloves that I could only dream of wearing.
As I questioned her, and commented on her fortune, she replied (in a sweet, elegant, voice that was only fit for those of first class) with the same answer each time: it was because she was ruined. It seemed she was trying to tell me something, yet I cannot understand it! Every question seemed to agitate her more and more.
And it seemed the breaking point was when I spoke of how I envied her and she said: "My dear, a raw country girl, such as you be, cannot quite expect that. You ain't ruined."
These words hurt me, they hurt me a lot- was this what my friend had become? Was this the girl who climbed trees with me as a child?
Yet one thing that didn't escape my notice was that with these last words she slipped back in to the rough country accent, and it made me wonder, had she really changed that much? Or was it merely an act?
As she strutted away, I carried on walking towards the market,
Though the task I had set out to do had been entirely forgotten.