Haydn

She sat alone in the park in her grey frock; its once finely woven laced ends of her dress was tattered from what seemed like the hooves of horses pulling carriages on the neatly paved roads. Her face was ashen and pallid, just like the overcast weather.
Dark clouds loomed over her head as if they were trying to beckon her away. Pigeons mingled among her fragile-looking legs, but she never budged from the spot. Thunder echoed in the distance, followed by the pattering of rain. Regardless, she sat there without a care. The somber appearance etched on her face did not wash away in spite of the storm beating her face like a wild animal.
I had been watching this girl from my safe little apartment for some time now, away from the cold rain with a cup of Earl Grey tea with a slice of lemon sitting promptly on my book. She had been loitering in the park for hours now. The pigeons at her feet had flown off to their nests, and the thin silk veil that masked her face and hat were beaded by pearls of rainwater. Her arms, both gloved, rested on her crossed legs. She had the appearance and the poise of one who was civilized and well brought up. But why on earth would someone like that be out in a thunderstorm?
I put on my coat and reached for my umbrella. I hurriedly made my way back to the park and tried to get her to shelter. At first she refused, but I insisted on her coming with me. She still rejected my offer and protested that she need not go anywhere and she only desired to stay in the park. I grew tired of her childish ways and commanded her that if she did not come with me, I would call the police and inform them about the mad stray cat I found in the park.
Finally she gave in and i wrapped her in my coat and we made off to my apartment. I gave her a towel so that she could dry herself off while I made her a cup of warm tea with crumpets. I rekindled the lifeless fire and went on with my book.
She finally emerged from the bathroom a tad bit dryer than before. She had taken off her hat and veil, revealing a terrible gash on her forehead. I winced at the sight, wondering at the same time what she had been through. After all, I merely picked her up from the park and I knew nothing about her. I quickly tried to regain my calm poise and asked her for her name.
She looked up from her tea and opened her mouth, but not a sound came out. She sipped a little bit more tea and cleared her throat.
"Haydn," she said softly.

Haydn. A name that I would never forget.