I had always fell in love with the house across the street.
In that house lives a seventeen-year-old girl named Emily Rosalie James.
To me, she is a goddess, a heroine, and a best friend.
Every morning I would cross the road to visit her, and to admire the beauty of the James' house.
Mrs. James had been like a second mother to me, and Louis, Emily's fifteen-year-old brother, had been my first love interest.
Today it was raining. I listened to the peaceful sound of the raindrops against the kitchen window, clink, clink, clink.
I stared across the road, looking at the red roof and the beautiful flower patch in their front yard. I could see silhouettes in the tall windows, talking to each other quietly.
"Alice, time for breakfast." Mum called from the dining room.
My eyes never left the house that I so dearly loved.