A one syllable story that I did for Creative Writing. I failed with “some-thing” and “always.” Please forgive me. 😉

 She was real nice to look at, James thought. He liked to to watch her through the blinds of her coach as it rolled through the town, the wheels loud as they hit the stone road.

  She was young, real young, but still nice to look at. Her Ma and Da were real rich, and she was always dressed fine. Her voice had a high-up sound, but still kind. Her name was Elle, short for some-thing; she would not tell him what. She bought a hot cross bun from James each morn’, and if he dared ask ’bout her name, her red red lips would curve up and she would get back in her coach. He’d watch it, dumb-struck, as it rolled off to her big house on the hill.

  James heard talk of a spouse some days: an old, old man who did not treat her well. Some days, she would not smile as she bought her bun. He held her eyes as she left these days, and she would wave, a small sad wave that spoke of wants that she could not speak out loud.