Love Bites *Sequel to Insanity Bites*

Z

I'd never considered myself a curious person. The few things that often plagued my thoughts were usually food, my mother's well being and surviving the blistering cold nights without freezing to death.

Curiosity was a luxury I'd never entertained. I barely knew my neighbours, work mates, nor the town's people in general. Knowing these people had never put food on the table so I never bothered.

However, for the past few weeks I'd developed a hunger that could not be satiated with food. It started with a mild ache in the pit of my stomach that grew with each day like a budding fire.

Now my chest was filled with it and the only thing that could tame the raging fire was its source.

Arabella.

I had found out her name when I followed her into the markets one day. The name had rolled off a butchers tongue in haste as she fished around for meat she had no intention of buying.

The large man with the pitted face had scolded her and chased her away by waving a knife in the air and she had laughed while she skipped away in a dance.

Her name, her movements, the way her soft brown hair would fall across her cheek only for her to tuck it back behind her ears, everything she did was so fluid, so effortless like a melody carried by the wind.

And now my heart danced to the sound of her voice and the soft steady skip in her steps.

It went on like this for a month. I followed her around before and after work, always wishing I could do more than just stare but the only form of communication we ever had was the exchange of an empty milk bottle for a new one.

Every day I would find a one with fresh milk on my door step. I'd often wondered what I had done to deserve this and then came to the conclusion that I didn't and that she was an angel.

It wasn't just me she was kind to. The three sisters would wander around the markets selling their milk bottles and once they were done she would buy a piece of fruit with some of their earnings and give them to the homeless people who sat by the bars begging for money.

Sometimes I wondered if that was how she saw me. A skinny homeless boy in need of her help and I wanted to stab that thought with a knife.

I had a plan. I was going to work impossibly hard, save up the money and ask for her hand in marriage. Granted it wouldn't be easy but I was willing to do anything to make her happy.

So that was exactly what I did for the next few months. I carried stone filled bags until my legs were numb and I worked over time when necessary just to earn extra wages. I hid all my earnings in places of the house my mother was unaware of and only gave my mother the bare minimum when she threatened to throw me out, lying about the how my boss cut my earnings every time.

After cutting back on food and saving almost every bit of money I earned I had finally saved a humble amount that could cover our rent and expenses in the town for a certain period.

I believed it was enough for her to be comfortable and that I was finally ready to speak to her.

That evening, after a long shower I wore my best clothes and walked into town to the marketplace where I knew she would be.

Even at this hour, where the sun diminished behind thick clouds that shrouded the sky, the town was still bustling with people. They lined the brick laden walls with their small wooden stalls, some decked with fruits, vegetables and meat, others lined with trinkets and watches that reflected off the last few rays of sun light.