The Cinderella | Wattys 2016

1.

Edited: 15th December 2016

^Grace Johnson

1.

THE SCENT OF fresh lilies lingered in the air as I took my mom's still and cold hand in my warm one and rubbed my thumb softly over. Her body was still with light breathing, eyes shut and skin pale white.

"You have no idea how monotonous school is, mom. I can't wait to graduate." I said with a laugh. I looked at her impatiently, expecting her to open her eyes and smile but instead, she lied still. As always. I heaved out a sigh of disappointment and threw a glance at my wrist watch. It was almost time for my part-time job.

"I'll see you tomorrow, mom. I love you." I whispered in her ear and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

Martha, the nurse, smiled sympathetically at me, "She just needs a little push, honey. Just don't give up."

"I know, Martha." I smiled back half-heartedly before giving a slight squeeze to mom's fragile hand that was in the grip of mine. I waved Martha goodbye and exited mom's room, with a sincere wish to have her back. Rushing downstairs, I pulled out my key from the pocket of my pants and unlocked my bike.

I cycled through the narrow roads of the blocks towards La Patiserrie, a small bakery I work at. The bakery has been the source of my livelihood ever since the responsibility of running the house and looking after my fifteen year old sibling were dropped onto my shoulders.

The sun was out, shining in all its glory in the clear sky. Mild breeze fanned my face and my shoulder length brunette hair flew in different directions as I increased my paddling pace. On my way, I stopped by a small florist to pick up a bunch of daisies and then continued to cycle until I reached my destination. I hurriedly locked my bike near the bakery and rushed inside.

"There you are." Sharon, the owner of the bakery and my boss, beamed at me. Sharon Herrington was a kind woman in her late fifties who ran this tiny bakery, located in the suburbs of the city. This place was the perfect place for me to work at, since I was not very far from home and most importantly, I live to bake.

"Sorry, Sharon. I lost track of time." I apologised and handed over the bunch of daisies to Sharon for her to decorate her desk. Sharon once mused about her love for daisies and since that day, I never forgot to buy a small bunch of them for her, every day.

"How many times have I told you there's no need for this?" Sharon sighed.

"You know you love them." I winked at her. I heard her sigh in defeat as I entered the kitchen and pulled down my apron from the hanger and tied it around my petite waist. My gaze fell upon my best friend who grinned at me whilst she walked over and pulled me into a hug.

"How is she?" Maya, my best friend asked, pulling away.

"The same." I said, trying to conceal the disappointment in my voice.

Her eyes swarm with sadness and concern as she soothingly rubbed my back. "She's a fighter. She'll be up even before you know." She said, trying to make the atmosphere a little lighter and brighter. I smiled and nodded at her in agreement.

Maya Palmer has been my best friend aka my soul sister since the kindergarten days. We are the stereotypical best friends who are spotted together anywhere and everywhere. With an average height of 5'4" with a slightly dark complexion, she was an absolute beauty with those lovely brown doe eyes and a perfect smile always lingering on her face. Her dark brown almost black hair would flow down in waves till her waist.