39

Isabella

Damon had returned again. Although this time it felt different. Him picking me up like that and kissing me felt like it was something he had done every day, and I was used to it. Was it an intentional ploy by him? If it was, what was he getting at? Questions such as these swirled in my mind until I saw her again.

The kind old maid came back again with a trolley instead of a tray, with a wide smile plastered on her wrinkled face. She reminded me of someone I knew from my childhood.

She reminded me of my old maid. It wasn't just about the fact that they looked alike; it was their characters that were the same. Edna would always greet me with a wide smile plastered on her tanned, wrinkled face.

Her skin had reminded me of old leather. But the condition of her skin did not faze her; instead, she would smile every time she saw me, give me a squeeze on my cheeks. She didn't stop this even long after I had become a teenager. She made me feel like a child, but not in a way that I