Laurelia has a minion!

Jacques the Teapup

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Laurelia. French. 16
Laurelia awoke to the sound of birds outside her window. She opened her eyes, smiling as warm morning sunshine hit her cheeks. "Jacques! Come here please," Laurelia called to her puppy, the black and brown Bichon Frise currently asleep in his basket at the foot of her bed. He lifted his head and yawned before scampering to his lady's side. "Come my dear! Today is ze twenty-seventh. We need to stop by ze restaurant and grab some pastries to take to granmuzzer."

Laurelia dressed herself in her favorite pink dress, tied a pink bow around Jacques's neck, placed him in the front basket of her bike, and set out on the fifteen minute ride to Mon Amour, the restaurant her parents had left her when they died ten years previously. Riding past the Eiffel Tower took Laurelia's breath away, as it did every morning on her bicycle ride. Such beauty and architecture.

After she secured her bike, Laurelia took Jacques into Mon Amour and sat at her favorite table. "And what kind of crepes would you like for breakfast this morning, Miss Laurelia? And for Jacques?" asked Michelle, Laurelia's favorite waitress and one of her best friends. "I think I would like ze strawberry crepes zis morning, please. And Jacques will have ze bacon crepes," she responded with a smile. "And I will need a small package of pastries prepared. I am going to see my granmuzzer after breakfast."

With breakfast finished and the pastries packed, Laurelia hopped back her bicycle and pedaled out into the country side to her grandmother's home. The old cottage was a warm, creamy yellow and covered in vines. The sight of her grandmother’s house always warmed Laurelia's heart. Since the moment she'd found out, as a scared six year old, that her parents had died, the only family Laurelia had had was her grandmother.

"Granmuzzer! I have brought you some pastries. All of your favorites," Laurelia called happily as she walked up the slightly wandering path through the flower-filled garden and up to the door. "Oh dear, come right on in. I'm in the kitchen, baking a loaf of bread." Laurelia let herself in and perched herself on one of the many mismatched stools and chairs in the living room.

After having lunch and enjoying the pastries she had brought for them to share, Laurelia rode her bicycle back to her home. The late afternoon sunshine came through Laurelia's window and hit her easel standing in the corner. The half-finished picture held an image of the view from Laurelia's balcony; the rooflines of Paris, the river, and in the distance, the Eiffel Tower. On a whim, she decided to finish her painting, and then have a tea party instead of dinner.

The painting complete and streaks of purple, red, and yellow paint still on the backs of her hands and on her forearms, Laurelia sat down at the table in her drawing room where her vintage stuffed animals in old-fashioned patterns waited for her, as well as Jacques. He was sitting in his chair and staring at his plate eagerly, as though excited for tea. Laurelia poured the tea, served the sandwiches, and chatted with her stuffed animal friends for the remainder of the evening.

When the time came for Laurelia and to go to bed, she turned out the lights, tucked Jacques into his basket, and settled down with a sigh. Her last thought as her head hit the pillow, the happy thought that every day would be like that day had been crossed Laurelia's mind, and she smiled as she lay under the stars and drifted off to sleep.