He spoke of a child, born too soon
He danced his finger across my face
He spoke of the magic in this place
She woke up with a start, the soft voice lingering in her ears, or was it lingering in her mind? Running her fingers through her short blond hair, she heaved a bone weary sigh and stretched like a sun-warmed cat.
“Shit, what I wouldn’t give for a full night’s sleep.” Her voice was sultry with just a hint of Southern flavor. Rubbing her fingers across her forehead, she sighed yet again and stood up to face her day.
Stumbling to the kitchen she started the coffee pot and wondered if she had time for a quick shower. Deciding that she did, she headed toward her small, neat bathroom, shedding her pajamas as she went.
Reaching through the shower curtain, she adjusted the water to just barely over lukewarm and stepped in. She grabbed her washcloth and squirted her favorite shower gel onto the cloth. As the aroma of honeysuckle and orange blossoms filled the shower the breathless whisper of a voice invaded the edges of her mind again.
Suddenly, the water felt like shards of glass slicing through her. The washcloth felt like sandpaper stripping off layers of skin.
“Enough of this shit!” Her own voice startled her so badly she almost fell. Reaching out a trembling hand, she shut off the water and grabbed the towel.
In sharp contrast to the biting water, the towel felt like fluffed cotton. Closing her eyes in pleasure, she slowly dried off and slipped into her robe. Wrapping the towel around her unruly hair, she stepped out of the bathroom with only one thought on her mind…..coffee.