Since Esmera was abandoned on a stranger's doorstep as a baby, the only person who has looked out for her is herself.
Until a lark starts visiting her, leaving behind exotic flowers and iridescent pebbles that the internet doesn't recognise.
Esmera...
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Not only did Mr Morghis live on Prince Avenue, but the apartment building Valerie had directed Esmera to was fit to house royalty. Modern, possibly futuristic royalty.
Esmera simply stared at it.
The rain had dwindled into a mere drizzle. It was easy enough for Esmera to ignore, even as it dotted her face and eyes with coldness and nestled among her curls.
The apartment building was so tall that the storm clouds swallowed its uppermost levels. Esmera wouldn't have believed there was a building embellished in silver if it wasn't for the lines that ran up to the top she couldn't see, glittering in the streetlights.
Soft warmth glowed from within the large windows that covered the apartment building's outside walls. Even that was more elegant than the single flickering bulb that illuminated Esmera's apartment, as was the whole building.
It was so sleek, so sophisticated, that it didn't seem like it could exist in the same world or time as Esmera's apartment. It definitely didn't belong in her neighbourhood, with the shoddy, cramped buildings and the litter embellishing the alleyways.
The residents of the unworldly skyscraper were too far up for Esmera to see them, but she imagined them sitting in front of their fireplaces with steaming mugs of tea in their hands. Maybe they were staring outside in contemplative silence, pitying all the unfortunate nobodies running through the rain. Maybe they were watching their favourite show. Esmera could almost hear them laughing and laughing at jokes that weren't even that funny.
Why wouldn't they when they had everything a person could ever want?
Esmera became conscious of the paper drooping against her hand as the rain soaked into it. Valerie's writing had smudged into itself, but Esmera could still make out the words if she squinted hard enough.
Mr Tauram Morghis, 22 Prince Avenue
With that, Esmera's mind was refreshed with purpose. She stuffed the sodden paper into her coat pocket. Though, of course, it wasn't her coat. Still, it was nice to pretend it was. Esmera might actually look like she belonged in such an upmarket apartment building when she stepped inside and requested to see Mr Tauram Morghis.
The mottled storm-grey tiles were an accident waiting to happen in the rain. Esmera clutched at the golden railing, but that wasn't any less slippery.
She gritted her teeth. She had made it this far, and a set of marble stairs wasn't going to stop her.
She somehow made it to the entrance to the apartment building. The doorman let her past with a nod and a polite, subdued smile.
It had to be the coat. If he could see Esmera's faded jeans and coffee-stained t-shirt, he would've called security to escort her out immediately.
For the umpteenth time that day, Esmera silently thanked the mysterious stranger for his generous gift.
She stepped into the foyer. It, like so many other sights that day, stuck her silent.
