A Knock at the Door

Why? The only word in my mind. "Why?" My mother is dead, my brother in jail and the only thing in my pocket is the divorce papers I received last night. Why me? If only an angel took pity on me.

The rain starts to pour down harder. Like icy pins stabbing me, the rain continues, without a care of my troubles. Tears start spilling from my eyes, in sync with the rain, they flow as if they were a river. The pain in my heart is worse than the pain of the rain. I should leave her grave and just go home.

After an hour's drive in a taxi I finally reached my house. No. My mother's house. I dig in my small purse, struggling to find my keys. Struggle. The word suits me perfectly. I take the envelope out of my coat pocket and open it. Filing these papers out is the only option I have as far as distractions go.

A knock. Then a second one. I rise to my feet and walk towards the door. All I feel is dread. No matter who it is, they won't be able to help me. This mystery person continues to knock, annoying me further. I reach the door and hesitate. I ask myself if I should bother.

"Hello? Is anyone home? I'm here on behalf of my master." Through the door these words ring through my mind. I've never heard this voice. Who could it be?

There is no more hesitation. I open the door to see a very handsome man. He's dressed in the clothes of a butler from the Victorian Era.