"…I was just walkin' through Central Park. Before I keep tellin', what's da date?" I asked.

"Da date? Must be…February 26, 1899," Jack said.

"Wow, this happened ten days ago. I didn't realize what day it was," I was still processing the date. I couldn't believe I'd been limping for ten days. And the cut had only gotten worse. "Well, I was walking through Central Park. It was cold, but I was looking for food."

"Did ya steal food?"

"Yeah. I know I shouldn've, but I did. I found nuttin', so I kept walkin'. In short, I walked into an alley. Two guys walked back there and said I was on their turf. Told me ta get off. When I wouldn't, one of em' grbaaed my wrist and tried ta pull me out. I punched 'im." I realized how distinct my accent was, now that I was talking to someone who didn't have then same one as me. "Neither saw it comin'. I don't think I did either. There was a big fight. One of 'em pulled a knife on me, I tried ta run, he got me in da knee. Only it slipped a little. Since den, I've been sittin' in allies. I try ta move ta somewhere else every few days. So I don't raise suspicions. I'd been eatin' whatever I could find. Table scraps, mostly. Couldn't steal no more. I fell asleep in dat alley where ya found me. It was a few days back. I woke up and couldn't move it."

"Did ya happen ta catch da boys' names?" Jack asked. I thought really hard for a second, scanning my mind.

"Morris and Oscar…I think they called each other." Jack let out a groan. "What?"

"They'se always cause us trouble," he explained. The boy named Specs ran up the stairs. He had some bread.

"Here Jack," Specs handed it to Jack, who handed it to me. I bit into it happily. There was a few seconds of silence while I polished it off.

"Dat's good!" I smiled, with my mouth full. Jack laughed, half heartedly. Specs went back downstairs.

"Ya should probably get some sleep…" Jack said, though not moving. He was sitting next to me, starring into space. Slowly and unsurely, I reached my hand behind him and lightly rubbed his back. He didn't seem to mind. After a few minutes, I took it down.

"What's wrong, Jack?" I gazed into his eyes.

"Lizzie, have ya ever wanted ta tell someone somethin', but not know how?"

"What?"

"Have ya ever wanted ta somethin' important ta someone, somethin' good, but not sure what they'd think?"

"Sure," I shrugged. Even though I was completely lost. He shook his head, as if trying to pull himself out of his thoughts. "What is it?"

"Nuttin'," he lied. "But I do love yer accent. Where's ya from?"

"Mum was from Ireland, Pa was from England. I was born here, though. But I got both ends of the accents," I smiled, then felt my cheeks turn red. No one had ever said they loved my accent. Actually, lots of people said it was annoying. I said the annoying part out loud.

"Hm. I'se don't think it's annoyin'," Jack was still looking at the wall. "I love it. And I think I love ya, too."