When I asked her her name, her reply was simple - "Esther". I didn't remember to ask for her last name and she never told me. So I just knew her as Esther. From that moment when she walked into my living room for the very first time ever, I never stopped feeling that there was something rather awkward about her.



She just did not add up for me at all; for reasons I just couldn't place a finger on. It wasn't because of her appearance - she was unimaginably decorous and well-mannered. It wasn't about how she spoke too, for she was eloquently tailored. It wasn't even about her poise, because she looked generally compact, and easily beamed in smiles if there was any reason to.



So it wasn't any of those at all, and I was very sure it wasn't. But what it was, I still couldn't tell. All I could tell was that Esther was different. Of all the housegirls I had ever kept in my home, she was totally distinctive. And apart from the seeming mystery that surrounded her person, she was also different in so many other ways.

Continue Reading Here http://trendope.com/2016/06/must-read-the-story-of-esther/