I'm either insane, or the next closest thing to it. I'm going to try to follow in Angharad's footsteps by doing a serial story.

I will likely post a piece for it every two or three days, as I do have other stories on the go at the moment.

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Each day, as she walked the half dozen blocks between her home and the small office where she was a junior clerk, Stasia passed by a certain small house. Stasia was a fairly pretty girl, about 5'7" tall, maybe 130 pounds, almost waist length golden blonde hair, and was usually dressed in a skirt suit for the office. She carried a backpack, in which she placed her heels for work, preferring comfy loafers for her walks.

Almost every time she went by this particular house, the kitchen windows made it possible to see inside, and she often noticed what seemed to be a young woman going about the daily tasks of keeping a house clean, doing dishes, mopping the floor, etc. The odd thing about it all was that Stasia didn't fancy girls, yet this one drew her attention like a moth is drawn to the flame of a candle.

As time passed, and she continued to catch glimpses of this person doing their housekeeping, Stasia found herself smiling each time that she saw them. She enjoyed the fleeting views that lasted only a moment or two before she would continue on her way to work or home.

She had first seen the girl in the house in the middle of spring, when everything was blooming and the days were growing warmer. Time passed, as it always does, and spring blended into summer, with its heat, thunderstorms and smog, and each day, Stasia saw her. Something about this girl being seen doing the house cleaning caused Stasia's heart to lift, and sometimes a sigh would escape from her Cupid's bow lips.

Time continued to pass, and summer faded into a blustery autumn; Stasia continued to pass by the house each day, often wearing a jacket for the extra warmth in the nippy autumn weather, with the blustery winds stripping the leaves from the trees along her route.

Once or twice, Stasia would catch the girl coming out of the house, usually to drop some trash in one of the bins off to one side of the house. They never spoke to each other, but Stasia's glances at the girl eventually sparked something and the glances became two way.

Eventually, autumn shifted into the early days of winter, with the crispness in the air that spoke of an occasional frost. Stasia still walked by the house on her way to work or home, albeit wearing longer, thicker skirts, actual tights instead of pantyhose and a heavier jacket.

About two weeks before Christmas, there was a brief snowstorm, only a small amount of snow actually staying on the ground, some of it hiding small bits of ice, and that made the sidewalks slippery, requiring more concentration than Stasia normally gave for walking.

So Stasia wasn't paying attention to the condition of the sidewalk that early morning, but waiting to go by that one house so she could look in and see the person who had somehow, without her ever truly realizing it, stolen her heart. As luck would have it, the girl stepped out of the house, walked over to the trash bins and dropped a bag in, then turned and headed back to the front door, just as Stasia passed by.

Stasia, as was said already, wasn't paying attention to what she should have been, and thus, almost by the front gate of that house, she slipped on a patch of ice hidden by the half-inch of snow on top of it, slid for a few feet, then fell, banging one knee on the cold sidewalk.

The girl quickly came out the gate, offered a hand, which Stasia gratefully clasped and helped her to her feet. Stasia then took a moment to check herself, her skirt seemed fine, she lifted it up enough to check her tights, no tears there, at which point, she sighed in relief.

It was at this moment, with her skirt raised up a bit, that Stasia's world turned upside down, for the girl spoke, only it wasn't a girl.

"Well, girl, you seem to be okay, I'm glad I could help you, I hope you have a good day," as he turned toward the front door; Stasia looked up in shock, looking closer at him, his body looked like that of a girl going through early puberty, except his hips seemed fully formed, yet the voice was clearly that of a male, being a low tenor, and Stasia could only stare at him in utter confusion for a moment.