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The Black Door of Number 1. Lady Harriet was scowling at me through her drapes, her spectacles perched on her crooked nose. I could see all of her boy servants scuttling about behind her. She had fifteen. Disgusting, if you ask me.

The Grey Door of Number 3. Lady Jocelyn’s loneliness was a storm cloud that had settled over her roof. She should have expected it, getting attached to one boy. When her 'love' died, she never got another. Despicable. Being servants were their only income. What would they be without us? Homeless bums, that’s what.

The Pink Door of Number 5 and the Purple Door of Number 7. Lady Rose and Lady Lily had lived next door to each other ever since evacuating the same womb. The rumours that they shared boy servants had never been proven, but their drapes were always firmly closed. I never listen to rumours though.

The Green Door of Number 9. Lady Natalie was talking to her boy window cleaner, and made as if to speak to me. But I did not talk to her. She who had disgraced herself, by trying to keep her baby boy. She knew the rules, and yet she refused to give him up.

And, at last, there was my White Door of Number 11. I may be odd, for having only one boy servant, but everything is strictly professional. No one would ever suspect me of misbehaving.

Although I am unsure why anyone would get attached. They are only boys, after all.

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