Rebecca counted the money she had made that day. Thankfully it was enough. She was looking forward to making her dinner.

Her stomach rumbled as the sound of a horse clip-clopping pinged in her ear. It grew louder and louder until it was right outside her shop, abruptly stopping. Through the window she could make out a cart.

The smell of fish hit Rebecca as soon as the door opened and she welcomed the fish monger and her usual order wrapped in paper.

'Evening, Mr Morrow.'

'A good one to you too. Terrible weather it's been of late, hey?'

'Indeed. Quite chilly.'

Mr Morrow plonked the parcel down on the counter. 'So, what's on the menu for tonight?'

'I'm going to make fish soup with potatoes.' Rebecca handed over her money.

'Soup for one?' Mr Morrow shook his head. 'You should be making food for someone special.'

Rebecca didn't know if Mr Morrow meant to be so cold with his words, but they made her feel as if she had jumped into icy water, her breath vanishing in an instant. It felt like wood smoke had been forced down her lungs.

She waited until Mr Morrow had left and after she had heard the horse's steps grow fainter before clawing her way, as if she was hacking through a dense jungle, to the front door.

After opening it, fresh air flooded in and washed over Rebecca's face. The respite of angst was only brief, for her eyes drifted to the many people walking the street. And like moths to flame, she was drawn to the couples, all huddled together to keep warm. Happy. In love.

Rebecca's chest began to warp, to go haywire. She slammed the door shut and collapsed to the floor, instantly hugging her knees for comfort.

'Why can't I be like them?' she cried. 'Why can't I be normal? What's wrong with me?' She felt like a puzzle that was missing several pieces.