A few minutes have passed, the lady might’ve taken her time away but she could not be sure. No people outside? On the hallway? Clear. Sal snuck her locket out of her dress. Inside was a small mirror. She breathed in. Opened it. And there on the mirror, was half her face obscured by patterned lace and cotton cloth. It felt strange everytime. But then she thinks of him.

On a day that is her own, she could dance to her heart's content. Her voice would swell up from her chest and she would speak. She would speak with her own voice and her face will be made known to her world.

She used to think that it was for certain that it would not come. The lady would be instructed to watch over her so as not to reveal her presence to others.

Sal lay on her bed and held ten fingers in the air. Palms positioned opposite of each other that her fingers were a clock. She counted one finger for each minute that passes. Every second would get shorter and shorter until she would be startled of the lady's knock. It would not hurt if she anticipates.

Seconds pass. Her clock counts ten and twenty, then forty. It did not pass. It was strange. The longest time the lady went out to fetch something was half an hour. Silence of this kind is a signal that everyone has left. The lady must have took her time, maybe she is even outside. How about the other servants? Gone? An hour passed and Sal remained alone. Minutes of silence flew by punctuated by a few spurts of clanging of silverware and the voices of the maids. Are they all in the kitchen? They never were this careless even at the Signor's absence.

Sal clutched her veil and knocked on her own door. No one answered. She opened it. Still, no one.

" Buon die ?". She greeted to no one in Caligarian.

" Une, die, tre ". She whispered, counted, at every step she took.The hallway leading outside is so narrow yet so big.

" diez "

Ten.

Despite the veil covering her eyes, the halls of the Casa stretched wide. Windows stood at each side. Sunlight escaped at every corner. Walls did not close in at all sides. It was too much. Sal touched a finger on her own face to trace what should be a scar. Instead, there was only skin, nose, lips, eyes.

She yanked the veil off her head. Little by little, the cloth fell into her hands like a snake writhing and coiling. There in her hands, it seemed small, smaller than it seemed nine years ago. Sal lifted her head to look around.

The loss of the constraint of the veil must have been giving her a newfound insolence. As long as there was chatter outside, as long as it remained outside, she is alone. The only person in the house at this minute was her. She took off her shoes to feel the wooden flood on her feet then her fingers, and eventually laid on it on her back.

Lithe footsteps on the floor.

Sal darted up. On her front is another room. Left is the stairs. Right is the grand entrance stairs. If any visitor would dare come, it would be from the grand entrance. Left stairs will be her maids. She bolted to the hallway to her room. Holding her breath. The footsteps stopped. She closed her eyes, the footsteps will reappear.

" Hush, it is only me."