Sorry for the long break! I've been in a mood that hasn't allowed me to get the motivation to write, but now that I've settled into my new job and I'm much happier. So, here we go. It's short and sweet and a tad heartbreaking…please don't kill me.

Cynthia

Bert sat there with his chin resting on his hand while his father and his friend droned on and one about one boring thing after another. Bert looked up and noticed his dad's friend's daughter looking at him. Bert smiled nervously at her, and she silently giggled and turned to hide her blush. Christina…no…Crystal…no…Clementine…no…Cynthia! That was the girl's name! Bert smiled at himself, proud of himself to have remembered. Cynthia was a nice girl, or seemed like it, rather quite…too quiet for Bert's taste plus he had other things on his mind.

Mary had been strategically avoiding him for the month following Sybil's wedding, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. They needed to talk about what they were. Clearly, they both had feelings for each other, but Bert didn't know how much more he could take of the constant up and down affection that came with Mary. He loved her. That much was for certain, but he was getting rather lonely at nearly twenty-two, and though Lydia had been sweet, Ireland was not where his heart lied nor a place he wanted to live because the only place for him lied on the rooftops of London and with an ever-traveling nanny. Bert let out a sigh.

"Are we boring you, Bert?" Bert turned his attention to his father.

"Sorry, Dad, I've just been thinkin' 'bout somethin',"

"Would you like to share?" Bert opened his mouth to speak when he saw a familiar face in a blue suit walk by the front window, peeking in briefly.

"Actually, Dad, I think my thoughts may have been answered. I'm sorry, but I'm goin' to 'ave to excuse meself." Bert quickly gets up from the table and dashes out the door, forgetting to grab his coat.

"Mary!" Mary silently curses herself for not being more discreet when walking past the Alfred household's front window. She shouldn't have walked by it at all, but she couldn't help herself.

"Yes, Bert?" Mary turns back to Bert, who is trying to catch his breath from his sprint.

"I've been tryin' to get talk to you for a month,"

"I thought you would be gallivanting off with Linda or Lynnette or whatever her name was," Bert smirks at the glint in Mary's eyes. She knew exactly what Lydia's name was.

"Well, she went back to Ireland, but you already knew that because Sybil told me that she told you,"

Traitor. Mary thought at the mention of Sybil's loud mouth.

"Well, I see that you've quickly moved on," Bert looks around.

"To who?"

"That girl talking with your father. Rather early to be meeting him isn't it,"

"Cynthia?" Mary nods, "I met her twenty minutes ago when her dad stopped by for tea,"

"I only imagine you'll make a lovely couple. I suppose it's for the best though,"

"What?"

"It will get you over your feelings for me,"

"But I don't want to…"

"Well, I have so I imagine it would be beneficial for you to do so," Bert looks in her eyes for any hint of deceit but finds none.

"Mary," Bert goes to take her hand, but Mary quickly moves her hand out of the way, "you can't mean that,"

"I do, Bert," Mary smooths out her jacket, "I've come to the realization that I don't have time for courtships and sentiment, and as you showed last month, that is what you are seeking. So, I do believe that we should both move on from our feelings from each other,"

"But I…"

"We had our romance, but it's just not in the cards. I do hope we can remain friends, Bert, but we cannot be anything more. Goodbye, Bert." Bert stood still as Mary walked off, astounded by her words and mouth agape. Mary quickly ducks around a corner, out of sight of Bert and the street, she covers her mouth with her white glove and lets out a muffled sob. That was by far the hardest thing she had done in her twenty-one years of life, but she knew it had to be done. She couldn't let Bert in anymore because it is muddling her thinking, and practically perfect people don't get muddled.

k. bye. Don't kill me.

Love,

KMA