-1Once upon a time there was a girl with ginger hair and fat braids that swung like bell ropes.
Once upon a time there was a boy who wasn't yet plump on his own wares.
They were both misplaced long ago, in a small house above a bakery, where the smell of the apprentice starting up the oven came through the floor, and there used to be a time when she wouldn't leap out of bed as soon as she woke (preferably and usually before he did) though you wouldn't know it to see her hurry to dress before he could look upon her. (Do you glare that way in your sleep? He asks. She will never let him know, for sleep turns him into a child, and she doesn't want to be seen if it does the same to her)
Once there was a girl who was hungry and too proud to ask for another.
Once there was a boy whose day-old rolls seemed more like fresh éclairs.
One cannot go hungry in a bakery, so his ever-plumping middle proves. She stays hard and bony, her jaw sharpens, her cheeks sharpen, her tongue sharpens. She makes sure the day old rolls bought are just that sold, and that everything is paid for, at least as long as she is watching. (You can't always watch me, He says. You shouldn't make me want to, She says.)
Once, a girl inspired a boy to write poetry.
Once, a boy would show his works to a girl.
There are always poets hanging about, eating without paying or being shooed away. Sometimes she has to take out her broom on them, and he will shout and scold and ask her what is she thinking, these men are artists, can she not at least respect art, since she cannot understand it? (Such a fair wife you have, They crow, laughing at their own sarcastic wit. She must inspire your pen. She breaks my pen, He says.)
Once, a girl listened when a boy read her sonnets.
Once, a boy's two dearest loves could live side by side.
There are many things to do, people to see, things to buy and sell and arrange, in order to ensure the stability that she longs for. There's nowhere to hide in the little bakery, apprentices are always caught when they are idling, and lashed-- not with a switch, but with a tongue far sharper than any whip. (What are you doing, wasting time this way? She asks. Isn't a man ever allowed a moment for the things he enjoys? He asks.)
Once upon a time there was a wedding that was too fast between a young girl who was too old and a grown boy who was too young.
Once upon a time a girl cut off her braids and learned math and business and how verses would turn her husband's eyes away from her.
Once upon a time a boy got plump testing pastries for taste and practiced his verses and learned to look elsewhere when his muse became too sensible.
Once upon a time a girl ran away with a musketeer and once upon a time no one told her the way a boy nearly hanged himself, and she would not believe them if they had, for he did not love her anymore.
Once upon a time a boy was left alone and once upon a time no one mentioned how a girl always kept a poem of his in her pocket, and he would not believe them if they had, for she did not love him anymore.