𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 • 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘰𝘯

George Washington's Going Home

~*~1797~*~

Y/n went for a walk. The warm breeze made it a fantastic afternoon, and she was ready to enjoy it. As she tied her boots, her sister, Polly, walked out of the living room.

"Going somewhere?" she asked.

"No, I just wanted to put on my boots," Y/n said sarcastically.

"Where are you going?"

"On a walk."

"Can you bring back some tomatoes for dinner? Dad's making spaghetti and tomato sauce."

"I see he's trying new things," Y/n said sarcastically.

"Yeah, but it's still pasta," Polly groaned. "It wouldn't kill him to make some steak or a salad from time to time."

Y/n opened the door. "I'm not going to the market."

"You can buy desert," Polly persuaded.

"I'm going to the market. Give me money."

And so, Y/n made her way to the market.

The summer breeze swayed her dress and got tangled in her hair (A/n: If possible). The sun shone in her direction like a spotlight, making her eyes seem lighter. She skipped to the market, singing to herself. The basket she held was empty, and she swayed it front and back with every skip.

As she neared the market, she happily greeted passersby with a smile. 

"Good morning, Mrs Locke."

"Good morning, Y/n."

"How do you do, Mr Downey?"

"Dreadful, as most of us are."

She felt confident, and no one would ruin that.

"Hey, ladies," a masculine voice spoke.

Speak of the devil.

Philip Hamilton made his way through the market, a flock of girls following closely, as always. 

"Oh my God, he's so hot."

"How's he not taken?"

"I wanna ride, I wanna ride."

"He's a lost angel from heaven."

"PHILIP, MAKE ME YOURS!"

"Six feet tall and super strong - "

Y/n recognised two other voices in the crowd.

"Goddamit, Philip!" Angie groaned. "You and your looks! I just wanted to buy tea!"

"I'm offended none of the girls wanna date me," David told his mate.

Philip chuckled. God, that chuckle gave Y/n butterflies. She shoved them off and walked over to the crowd.

"Angie!" she called.

"Aah! Who said that?" Angie turned around frantically.

"That was me."

Angie gasped. "Who's that?"

"Angie!" Y/n tried to make herself visible through the crowd. "It's me!"

"Are...are you my conscience?"

Y/n decided to play along. "Yeah yeah, I'm your conscience. We haven't spoken for a while. How are you?"

Angie shrugged. "Can't complain."

David looked at the girl in peach in confusion. "Who're you talking to?"

"My conscience," Angie replied as if it was normal.