The Bright Colours of Misery [COMPLETED]

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 -cinnamon and pride-

The next morning after lunch Heidi put her coat and green knitted scarf on. Before she left her mother told her to be careful, to not go too far from the house and to ask for help if she got lost. (Trudy made sure to repeat this at least 50 times.) Heidi didn't pay much attention to Trudy's ranting. She had gotten used to not seeing so well and could find her way back home with the colours and shapes of the street, besides she was only heading to the end of apfelstraße. The snow had begun melting now and the sun was shining like a golden pendant in the clear blue sky.

The snow made a lot of noise as she pressed her footprints into it.

She approached the house with confidence at first, but then as she got closer she felt fear creeping up inside her.

What if she had already messed up yesterday? What if he didn't want to be her friend anymore?

She took a deep breath. I told her to think about what Wilma had told her–to be positive–and for once, she took advice.

The house Fischer's house was not much fancier than hers, it looked pretty similar although the brick was a darker shade of brown and the wood a lighter one. And of course the first floor wasn't a little shop, it was just a normal house with a blue door and a little window with red plaid patterned curtains hiding whatever could be going on inside the house. There were a few cobblestone steps leading up to the door, Heidi wasn't as used to these stairs as the ones at home, so she made sure to be careful like her mother would have wanted.

Her little hand was about to knock on the door, but then a feeling all humans seem to experience all the time came up:

Uncertainty

I told her to just do it, not to listen to this dumb feeling, but she didn't listen to me. I tried again. Just knock on the goddamn door! I thought and to my surprise she actually did.

I watched her whole face go pale as the door creaked open and a man with the same build as her father, very light eyes, brown hair and a stained shirt stepped outside in the doorway.

"Guten tag." He said, looking down at the little stranger with a curious look, Heidi didn't see the curiosity on his face, which was good, if she noticed she would have ran away immediately.

"Guten tag, herr Fischer." She whispered, and by some miracle, he actually heard her hurried words.

"And who might you be, young lady?" Herr Fischer asked, smiling at her softly.

"Heidi Seide." She answered, fiddling with her hands, barely able to look at him. He noticed this and understood she was being very brave right this instance, and that it was best to do most of the talking.

"Oh! So you're one of Alfred's younger ones, I see, should have guessed by the red hair." He said with a chuckle. "Come in, Heidi."

Heidi slightly nodded and carefully stepped in.  The room smelled like cinnamon, someone was probably making cinnamon rolls, they had very few small paintings on the walls and a lot of brown furniture, just like she did. Half of it must have been inherited from a relative.

"Do you need help with anything? Did your parents send you?" He asked, as he poured himself a cup of coffee and tried to reach for a cinnamon roll on the table.

Heidi shook her head.

"nein, I'm here to..." She hesitated. "I want to thank your son, Alexander."

Herr Fischer raised an eyebrow, with a slight smile wondering what his son had done to help her.

"Thank him? May I ask why?" He gently asked, finally reaching a cinnamon roll.