December 14, 1941. I, Chanhassen Dobbins, am a young thirteen year-old girl that is living in New York City. "Chanhassen Marie Dobbins!" My mother calls me. In my gray nightgown, I make my warm بستر neatly. "Sometimes, I wish I was younger." I mumble to myself. As I change into my regular attire, I open the chipped wooden door from my bedroom and follow my mother's voice. Walking down the dark brown staircase, I see my mother sitting at the باورچی خانے, باورچی خانہ میز, جدول drinking milk. "Ahhhh...! Chanhassen! Lydia wanted آپ to meet her in her father's cafe." She takes a sipof the mug with her chapped tan lips. "Alright. Thank آپ mother." I kiss my mother on her forehead and flee the apartment. Some would say I live in the projects, but I live on Misery Lane. Where there are no projects nearby. The cold wind of December flies north. Oh how cold it is! Cold as Antarctica but it is only New York City. Across the busy سٹریٹ, گلی of our brick apartment, I see my friend Lydia's father's cafe. I grip onto my maroon کوٹ and look side to side for passing vehicles. Walking along the yellow lines across the street, I see a man with a dark gray suit and a matching hat. He looks very suspicious. "Come! Come! Come! To Papaaaaa Palini's!" A bald man with blue eyes calls out with a fancy coat. "Mr.Levine?" I ask to the familiar face. "Chanhassen Dobbins!" Mr.Levine hugs me until I am cannot touch the ground. "Oh it's so good to see آپ so much! It's an honor to be with you! Where is your mother?" I twidle with my thumbs. "She is at the apartment. Doing swell. I promise." I explain to Mr.Levine. Mr.Levine has been my mother's most trusted friend. And to my father as well. "Well, come on in to Papa Palini's!" Just one tiny سوال comes to mind. "Why are آپ advertising [for i]Papa Palini's[/i]?" I سوال him. "Marcio Palini gave me a job for me to تشہیر for his cafe for good pay." he informs me.

As I enter the two story cafe, I take my gloves off since it's warmer inside. I see a butterscotch-haired girl in a black and white dress. "Chanhassen?" "Lydia!" I call. Lydia and I hug each other. How I have missed Lydia's cinnamon چائے aroma. She has been a waitress for a couple of months now for her father. Lydia is indeed a Palini. Born in North Dakota, blood of the Italians! "Oh, Chanhassen! It has been such a while since I have seen you! What are آپ doing here?" I smile at my childhood friend. "My mother sent me here. She کہا آپ needed me." Lydia's blue eyes widen. "OH! That is right! My papa needs another waitress in the cafe. I have offered him to let آپ come and work here. Would آپ consider it?" she explains. We take a نشست at the nearest میز, جدول and I shake my head. "No thank you. I was thinking about getting a job at the candy store." "THE CANDY STORE?!" Lydia exclaims making her Italian accent دکھائیں مزید than ever. "You are too good for that candy store! Chanhassen, آپ must work here. It'll pay off everything your mother has borrowed." It's true. My mother has borrowed some money lately ever since my father died in World War II. Which is still going on now. "I don't care about that now! I must work at the candy shop! They pay highly there!" "So do we!" Lydia says. "You may go, but, I want to see آپ مزید often. Work got us seperated!" "I know." I check the clock inside the coffee brown cafe. "My apologizes. I need to leave. My mother needs me at nine o'clock." I put my gloves back on and flee the cafe.