Sparkling mirrors gazed into the dawn.  Their gentle depths drank in the ethereal beauty of the sunrise, holding the precious glow in a place far deeper than the surface could show.  Dawn had finally broken through the thick city sky, and its vibrant pink and orange rays warmed all the stone and brick buildings across town.  The coolness of night time still lingered in the air.  Shimmering blankets of mist replaced crisp layers of frost, reminding all that the earth had finally warmed, and that winter had at last gone back to its year-long slumber.

In such early hours, most of the world still slept.  One soul had risen before the dawn and now stood facing the sunrise.  On top of an abandoned building, she stood waiting, her tiny frame leaning against the small utility room that sheltered the old wooden stairs.  Dressed in a plain white gown that touched the floor and wrapped in a loosely knitted shawl, the girl held herself with a child-like innocence.  She was slowly maturing into an adult; in her 16 summers, her body's subtle curves were beginning to show.  The end of spring meant the coming of her 17th year, but she would not be celebrating.  She had no reason to celebrate, and no one to celebrate with.

The wind brushed her knees, ruffling the skirt of her night gown.  Her hair, a soft mass of rose-colored curls, was pinned behind her ears in two little buns, each of them wrapped with deep red ties made to resemble petals.  The girl shivered in the chill of the dawn and pulled her thin knitted shawl around her shoulders.  The afternoon would be warm, but for someone of her size, early mornings were still a challenge.

"I still find the sunrise so beautiful, even after seeing it so many times," she whispered.  The morning's peace would be brief.  She dared not spoil it.  She turned her eyes to the city below, to the dim gray areas where light did not reach.  "Down there, it is a different world," she said, drawing her shawl closer to her.  "A life of safety and comfort...it isn't possible.  No one gets to have good things.  It's dirty and cold, and no one gets to live in a house that can keep the weather out."  The girl examined the wall she leaned on, her slender fingers tracing the brittle cement and brick.  A tiny chunk of brick broke away and clattered to the roof top.  She frowned and absently placed a hand over her stomach.  The dull ache that she felt even paled the sunrise.  Visions of eggs and toast and cereal danced across her eyes as she entertained the thought of a good breakfast.

"Things were so different when Mama and Papa were alive..."

Gray eyes darkened nearly to black.  In her mind, she could still picture the pale, weak faces of her parents as they lay in their bed, both dying of the same unknown disease.  The gentle smile of her father, the tearful, tired eyes of her mother--they still haunted her, and all she could do at that time was watch them slip away.  She was the only daughter of the Rose family; she had no siblings, no cousins, no aunts or uncles, and by that time, no grandparents, either.  Her name was Madeline, but everyone called her "Maddi".

After the death of her parents, she'd cried for days on end, unable to leave her own bed.  The servants of the house had no idea what to do with her, and many of them feared she carried the fatal sickness and simply hadn't fallen to it yet.  Most believed it was just a matter of time, and that she would leave the Rose family's estate and small fortune to whoever laid claim to it first.  

Months passed, and Maddi survived.  She secluded herself, barely talking, barely eating.  The servants began to leave.  With her parents gone, Maddi fell into a deep depression.  She remembered the steep debts that suddenly came to her household, the estranged friends who suddenly wanted to be friends again, and the eventual reclaiming of her house by the city.  

Just four months after her parents' death, the house and everything left in it was auctioned off to the highest bidder.  No measures were taken to ensure Maddi's continued care.  It was as if no one even knew she was there.  At the very least, she would have liked to believe it.  At the time the house was sold, Maddi felt eyes upon her.  Through her bitter tears, Maddi tried to fend off the growing waves of sickness that attacked her.  The unease she felt was overwhelming; her stomach twisted into a knot, and she felt faint.  A cold chill crept into her veins.  Her eyes lost their color.  That's when it happened.  

More than anything, Maddi remembered that event in horrific detail--so much that she desperately wanted to forget.  The way those people--if they truly were people anymore--looked at her...it was stunning.

Trembling, Maddi forcefully broke her train of thought.  "I haven't seen a person look like that in several months.  If I keep to myself, it may never happen again," she whispered, shutting her eyes tightly.  "That is why I must live like I do--I don't know that there is a person out there who I can trust."

More than two years had passed since her parents' death.  Although Maddi had grown used to living on her own, she still did not have a stable life or a dependable place to sleep.  Her fears about other people made sleeping something of a momentus occasion.  Even as much as she tried to, Maddi had never grown the thick skin that one needed in order to survive the kind of life she led.  Every day, she passed individuals and families that lived their lives in a small alcove behind a big-name business.  Things were very grim for them, but they survived.  Deep inside them was a will to live, or at least enough of one that they found ways to fill their stomachs.  Maddi was lucky to barely scrape by.  

"I wonder if I'll make it...?"

The sounds of crying children and fighting couples snapped Maddi out of her daydreaming.  She blinked her eyes, surprised that the sun had risen so far into the sky.  Her neighbors for the day had awakened.  No doubt the entire city was due to wake up any time.  

"I should go now," Maddi thought.  "I can't be late.  If I don't work today, I won't eat tonight."

Very carefully, Maddi tip-toed her way around the side of the small room and pushed the door open.  Bright, golden sunlight disappeared behind her as she slipped inside and closed the door.  She descended the stairs with soft steps, using one hand to lightly touch the railing and the other to hold the skirt of her night gown above her ankles.  The worn boards were rough and warped from changing humidity levels on the upper story, but they held fast.  Maddi moved quickly down one flight of stairs, then stepped off at the top floor landing and made her way down a short hallway lined with rooms.  

Maddi's door was all the way at the back.  Inside the room was an old bed frame with a makeshift mattress laying on top of it, a small wash stand and bowl, and the entirety of Maddi's belongings--a single tattered suitcase wrapped in cord and one extra pair of shoes.  Maddi walked over and knelt beside it, her fingers nimbly undoing the ties which held it together.  It could hardly be called a suitcase; it was more like an oversized purse, barely big enough to hold her clothing and more precious items.  

She rummaged through the suitcase for a moment, then pulled out a comb, a small cloth, and her clothing for the day.  Her breakfast sat in the inside pocket of her bag, and after she combed her hair and changed out of her night gown, she gingerly took it out.  After washing her face and making sure her shoes were on, Maddi stuffed the rest of her belongings back into the suitcase and then shoved them under the bed.  She had a blanket that was just big enough to cover the underside of the bed if she arranged it correctly.  After retrieving her small morning meal, Maddi took a few moments to throw the quilt across the bed.  If she could find any kind of job at all, Maddi had to work.

Food in hand, Maddi shut the door to her room and walked back to the stairs.  She made her way down the remaining three flights, then stepped off onto the ground floor.  Her shoes clicked on the concrete floor as she crossed the length of the building, then pushed her way through the heavy double doors in the front.  People began dotting the streets, business signs slowly started appearing in small shop windows, and newspaper carriers began making their rounds.  A gust of wind ruffled Maddi's hair.  She brushed a few strands out of her eyes, then turned her eyes to the blue sky.  The anxiety she felt almost slipped away with the wind as she said a silent prayer for just one more day.  

The city was awake.