Scene 3

“You… y-you lived with your c-cousins?” he asked, intrigued, daring to look up at her.

“My parents died when I was very young. My father passed away when I was only five, and my mother when I was eleven. It wasn’t easy for my uncle and his wife, but they took me in for the next four years, without ever complaining about it to my face.
— Was it d-difficult for you t-too…?
— … Very. I worked day and night to convince myself that I was worthy of their care,” she replied with a hint of sadness.

She suddenly seemed far more human to him than in all the stories he’d heard about her. He then began to take notes on what she was saying.

“A-And then?
— If you want to become a journalist, you’ll have to learn to ask precise questions and work on your articulation. After that, we carried on working hard and passed our exams.
— I-I mean after… i-in your story…
— Still not precise enough. Tell me, are you free for a moment, lad?
— Yes. For th-three days.
— Then I’ll tell you everything. It’s my story, from my point of view… I’ll tell you everything. And it’s up to you to decide whether you want to write it all down or not, all right?”

He never thought he’d one day accept a proposal from Serina Willhelm, but he nodded, relieved at the thought of no longer having to formulate questions.