Annie And The Prince

Across the square a steeple clock began to ring the hour. Five o’clock. As if on cue, small flurries of snow began to drift down from the clouds. Annie watched in amazement, her heart full. It felt like a miracle, and she wished there was someone to share it with. Green eyes came to mind, and gleaming dark hair, but she pushed the thought of the man away.

She watched, and dreamed, for perhaps fifteen minutes. The street had a thin veil of white over it. Finally she stood up and stretched. It was time to eat. Incredibly, the meal was included with the price of the room. As she’d gotten into the cage elevator she could have sworn she smelled Swiss Cheese Fondue. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

She went to her suitcase and took out a sweater and some warm pants. Perhaps she’d walk through the town after dinner, and try to acquaint herself with the layout.

The meal was, indeed, a rich fondue. The cook had made fresh bread minutes before Annie had gone to eat, and the yeasty-cheesy scent in the dining room was as warming as an eiderdown comforter. She ate hungrily, devouring the faintly nutty-flavored Gruyère cheese fondue, the crisp green salad, and not one but two cups of warm chocolate pudding. The cook had been delighted to see her eating so heartily.

Afterwards, she took a long, leisurely walk through the town. It was even lovelier than she’d thought, with several wooden toy shops, a clock maker, a lively corner pub where people were playing darts, and several other Dickensian-looking shops. She imagined herself taking this walk every night after dinner. Then she imagined herself at dinner with Hans across the table. Better still, she imagined sitting on the woolen rug in front of the fire with Hans…or lying on the rug in front of the fire with Hans…The thought raised gooseflesh on her arms.