Evet lounged on some wooden crates filled with tea. The sharp corners of the wooden boxes tapped her shoulders insistently, as though they had a secret to tell. Evet ignored them, and regarded her new city with interest. It was pretty… Just pretty.

London, Evet's old place of residence, was good when she was a young girl: she had so much space to breathe because she was so small, and of course, back then he had also had Ebony. But as she grew older, the air was harder and harder to breathe – she's be in an empty room, gasping for breath. The constant threat of suffocation hung over her head, constricting her throat more and more until not a single word could scrape or squeeze its way out anymore. Without words battling for room in her throat, the air could slip in and out a bit easier, but not a lot.

Then Ebony started to wilt. To wither and die.

But Boston – The air was a lot bigger. Evet suspected that the trees had a lot to do with it. They stood at the fringes of the towns and their paths, breathing air right at the people. It wasn't hot and stale like the air that came out of the mouth holes of most people. It was clean, sweet. New.

The lights were being extinguished from the stalls around her, and from the insides of shops, too. People were dissipating from the bustling streets, and were wandering away to their homes for the night.

"Oi, lassy. Yeh gotta move from the crates," a Scottish accented voice said at her. As Evet straightened up, paying no heed to the final, deep dig from the corners that were desperate to talk to her, and stood up to the street. The dark blanket of the night sky was being unfolded and the corners were fast being tucked into the horizon. Evet thought that the night must be like an old quilt, because she could see the bright points of Heaven showing through the darkness where it had worn out with age, and she was sure that the angels had stretched out a particular hole to see Earth better because the moon was quite large tonight.

Lots of doors gently flowed past both sides of her as she started to wander towards the South-West. Soon she noticed that the stragglers of the night were beginning to appear, all of them slowly migrating to either the late-night wine-and-ale stalls or to the ramshackle brothels. A prostitute passed by Evet – on her way to work, no doubt – and Evet politely nodded her head at her. The lady's expression of suspicious confusion flashed in Evet's peripheral vision before her legs ignored the woman and carried the rest of her body forward. Soon she would be under the blanket on night in the forest, on her way to her house. The newly cobbled road gradually gave way to a rough dirt path that had the tracks of wagons already etched into its dusty, uneven skin.

The dirt road flowed beneath her feet as Evet started towards the house that her family was living in. It was up the hill, around the bend, then on the left path in the fork in the road. Unfortunately, it was about a mile of flat walking from there, but without a horse or wings, Evet had little choice but to march onwards. Luckily, there was a lot to look at as she walked. The trees were tall, but didn't look at her with worry or critique; they just stood around restfully, breathing down to her puny frame. Filled with air and a rhythm in her chest that made blood go to her toes and ears and some other places, the young English-American girl trailed back to a small wooden house under the protective guard of the trees, and the watchful vigil of the stars above.

While her day in the town had been long, it had not been particularly riveting, or eventful in any significant way. All she had done was look at food that she could not buy, people she could not help, and lives she couldn't fathom. Quite stupidly, she had left her coin purse back that the house, so she had nought to do but walk, sit, and consider.

As it happened, Evet had passed a church on the way to nowhere. The preacher spoke very ardently about how the coming of Christ was upon "us", and "we" should be ready for His divine wrath. He also mentioned how when Jesus had healed the blind, wounded and heartsick they were miracles, and all of the other blasphemous religions in the East were disgraces against His holy power. How could the other religions expect to be Saved if they denied themselves God and His mighty power?

Evet wasn't so sure. She had sat herself down on a stone bench next to a large Red Coat who must've been taking a break from his Red Coat duties (whatever they were). When she had initially sat down, the man had glared at her, but after she scooted across a bit, he lessened his gaze to a mistrustful sideways glance. After it was apparent that she wasn't going to give him any trouble, they had left their uneasy silence at just that.

The loyal church-goers had begun to sing a solemn hymn that Evet recognised as a long, pompous one that she had had to learn for Sunday school back in England.

The preacher had used the word 'miracle' as a describing word for a great feat of wonder, like when Jesus had healed the wounded. But wasn't life in itself a miracle of sorts? Nobody knew what caused life; not a soul knew what spark life truly was, so wasn't it a feat of great amazement and marvel? But life comes in so many different varieties, Evet reasoned, not just human kind.

The Red Coat shifted a bit beside her, and the singers within the church reached a chorus. Their mighty voices escaped the immense stone walls of the house of God, and spilled out into the streets, where a few wisps of song fell upon Evet's ears.

There was life in a dog; there was life in a violet: who was the preacher to say that their lives weren't miracles? Maybe every time a baby chick was born or a weed sprouted everyone should call it a miracle? Perhaps Jesus and Heaven were present in the smallest instances of creation.

Or perhaps not; the weeds and the violets would get plucked from Mother Earth, then they'll turn brown and die. The baby chick would grow up to be dinner, and the dog would sicken and die. If they weren't all poisoned, that is. Who knew, and who cared anymore?

Eve's reconsiderations were left hanging in the air where her head had been in an instant, as her entire body was sent crashing into the hard ground by something.

Someone…?