Eliza

Ten minutes ago, he made eye contact with me; his face became flushed, and everything about him changed. His posture, his expression.

I had no idea I was able to do something like that to someone.

When he raised his fist into the air, he called out, "For the revolution!" For the first time in a long while, I felt that. I felt the urge to rebel, to throw a couple of crates of tea into the harbor myself. I had the urge to get my hands dirty, to write a letter or two.

The best part of this whole thing is when his friend took his arm and muttered. That muttering will resonate with me until the day I am buried. He muttered his name.

"Alexander, please."

In the moment, I held his name close to me. As I walk up to him now, I still hold it close.

I reach for his arm, and my fingertips reach his bicep. "Sir? Could I have a moment?" The words tremble out of me, and I'm even surprised he heard me at all.

"Of course-" When he turns around, his eyes grow wide. He goes slack jawed for a moment before collecting himself. "Excuse me, miss. How can I be of assistance?"

"I wanted to thank you, sir," I say, my voice still shaky. I give a polite cough and he smiles a little. At such a young age he already has tiny crow's feet at his eyes, and his scruff can't cover up smile lines that highlight his cheeks.

He seems skeptical, and the glance he throws makes me want to embrace him, to reassure him that there is no ulterior motive. "For what exactly?"

"Well, us patriots absolutely must stick together. Especially in times like these. I think you've experienced this. If you haven't, I hope you do."

Alexander swallows hard, lickiing his lips. His eyes are calculating, searching for the right words to give me. I would accept any words from him, even if they were followed by a slap across the face.

"Darling!" I hear someone call from across the square. I snap my head, and I see my dear sister Peggy waving to me. Her dress swishes as she moves, still glowing in the sun. I only sigh, realizing what that means. It's time to go.

I turn back to Alexander and give a tiny curtsy, as I'm not sure if he is ranked or not. It's the easiest way to show respect anyway. "I beg your pardon, sir. I must be going. My sisters need me."

Alexander is no longer struck down, and he owns his thoughts again. He takes my hand, grasping onto it harder than Angelica had on the way here. "Am I so privileged as to receive a name?"

I look back to Peggy, then to my older sibling. Even the snail of a window shopper looks impatient and annoyed. I turn back to Alexander once more. "A thousand apologies, sir. I must be going." I am able to ease my hand out of his grasp, and he complies.

I feel the guiltiness building in my stomach. Nevertheless, when he looked at me, something happened to my heart. It was almost as if a blast had occurred; a sonic boom, if you will. I could live in that moment forever. It might even take the guilt away.

I rush over to my siblings. They take my hands, squeezing and petting me, asking me if I am okay. I only laugh, throwing my head back a bit. The relief doesn't make it to their eyes, but it satisfies me enough to head back to Albany.

As my siblings begin to walk back up the block, I stay behind for a moment. I fix myself to face the corner Alexander was standing at. He's still there, a dumbfound look upon his face. I smile at him, giving a simple wave. He smiles back and tips his head down. He fixes his collar, continuing down the opposite block.

On the carriage ride home, I worried I would never see him again. I worried that someone would catch me engaging with someone I shouldn't have been, followed by my mother reprimanding me for brash talk of revolution. "We are seen, not heard." Her phrase echo in my head.

As I watch Manhattan melt away, I slip into slumber. Unfortunately, I do not dream of Alexander.