| chapter one |

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Paris, France.

mardi douze
Juillet
dix-neuf trente deux

"Bonjour Geneviève," Madame Pilkins called out to me as I walked over to her market stall with my catch of the day; ever since my father got sick, I had been out catching whatever I could to feed my family

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"Bonjour Geneviève," Madame Pilkins called out to me as I walked over to her market stall with my catch of the day; ever since my father got sick, I had been out catching whatever I could to feed my family.

"Bonne journée Madame Pilkins," I greeted back with a short, polite curtsy, it wasn't necessary, but I was always taught to be polite no matter how formal or informal you are with the person.

"Bon Anniversaire," she said with a happy grin as I felt my cheeks flush, it was my birthday today, and I had already been up a fair few hours before the sun even rose in the sky.

My father had become too sick to work, leaving my mother scrambling for work, which was hard enough in our current world, nowhere was giving out any work, nor were they paying well for the jobs she was doing.

"You remember," I answered in broken English, only knowing a few phrases, Madame Pilkins had come from London, England, or so she told me. She said she hopped on a boat and came to France for a new start, now she owns a fruit stall.

"Of course," she replied, putting a few apples in a paper bag and handing it to me with a wink "18. Un si doux âge" I giggled at her dramatic sigh before taking the bag from her; she has always been pleasant to my family.

"Merci madame, Au revoir!" I said with a small wave before making my leave. I needed to return home; my family was probably waiting for me to make my birthday breakfast.

Not that it would be anything extraordinary, but it was the love my family put into making it that made it special, and now with the apples, it would be even better.

Walking down the cobbled streets, I smiled, seeing the orchard that was directly behind our small rickety house; we weren't rich by any means; in fact, we were pretty poor at this point.

But having the sweet-smelling Jasmine flowers fill my home whenever we opened a window made me feel rich.

Gently breaking off one of the flowers, I held it up to my nose and gave a delicate sniff. Somehow this small white flower had a power over me; it calmed me down within an instant.

Placing the flower in my hair, I skipped to my front door and pushed it open eagerly to see my family waiting for me.

Placing the flower in my hair, I skipped to my front door and pushed it open eagerly to see my family waiting for me

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