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She missed the days of being able to wake up slowly, serenely, quietly. The early morning sun would lightly kiss her eyes and caress her cheeks from behind gauzy white curtains. The salt-laden breeze off the ocean had once encouraged her lungs to breathe deeply, to yawn, and to stretch her athletic body like a lazy kitten.
She used to open her eyes, blink a few times to clear away the haziness of remnant dreams and sit up in her soft bed. Often, she listened to the radio play whatever musical hits were at the top of the charts that day, that month, or that year.
She missed music most of all. Music was her release, her confessor, and a much needed outlet for excessive emotions - to sing loudly, beat her hands rhythmically against a table or the wall, tap her bare feet against the cottage floor.
Now, there was only silence, darkness, and unyielding cold. Aisling hated the cold.
Why was she cold?
( Read more... )
She used to open her eyes, blink a few times to clear away the haziness of remnant dreams and sit up in her soft bed. Often, she listened to the radio play whatever musical hits were at the top of the charts that day, that month, or that year.
She missed music most of all. Music was her release, her confessor, and a much needed outlet for excessive emotions - to sing loudly, beat her hands rhythmically against a table or the wall, tap her bare feet against the cottage floor.
Now, there was only silence, darkness, and unyielding cold. Aisling hated the cold.
Why was she cold?
( Read more... )
