Life. · Y/n story by @thatonegirl1847

January 18, 1919. The air had a bite to it that morning, the kind that made you tuck your chin into your scarf and walk a little faster. Frost clung to the grass along the road, and the schoolhouse chimney sent a steady ribbon of smoke up into the pale sky.

Clara Whitmore

Y/n! There you are! I was beginning to think you'd been swallowed up by that cold.

Evelyn Carter

appearing behind Clara, adjusting her hat Don't listen to her. Eighteen is the perfect age. Old enough to be taken seriously, young enough to still have a bit of fun.

The three of you climbed the steps together, and Clara was just about to say something else when a group of boys pushed past, too loud and too careless, nearly sending Evelyn's hat askew. One of them turned back, mouth open to apologize, and then stopped.

???

Sorry, miss. Didn't see you there.

He was older than the other boys, you realized. Not a student. His coat was well-cut, his posture easy, and his eyes lingered on you just a moment longer than politeness required before he touched his hat and continued on his way.