As the sun gently kissed the horizon, Janella awoke in her small attic room, adorned with scraps of fabric and the warmth of morning light filtering through the worn curtains.
"Another day begins," she whispered to herself, gracefully slipping out of her modest bed and donning a simple linen dress. The threads told tales of countless stitches.
"Morning, Janella! The sun's greeting us well today," called a neighbor from below.
"Good morning! I'll be down shortly," she replied with a smile.
Descending the creaky stairs, she found herself in a quaint kitchenette, where the aroma of fresh coffee lingered. The neighbor's voice echoed through an open window.
"Janella, dear, mind helping with breakfast?" Mrs. Thompson leaned on the counter.
"Of course, Mrs. Thompson. What's on the menu today?"
Amidst the clatter of pots and pans, Janella's nimble fingers expertly sliced fresh vegetables. The rhythmic sounds of chopping became a morning melody.
"That ribbon suits you, my dear. A touch of elegance in this humble abode," Mrs. Thompson remarked, noticing the silk ribbon.
"Thank you, Mrs. Thompson."
"You're welcome dearest."
Janella thought of the Marquess and a smile stretched across her face. If only he would come to see her again.