Briannas Prophecy
““I don’t work on Mondays. Why did I set the alarm?” She groaned again and rolled over, pulling a pillow over her head, she tried to block out the light shining through the bedroom window. The weather forecaster on the clock radio said it was supposed to be a beautiful day. “What’s so stinking beautiful about it?” she groused. “Good grief, I hate getting up this early. A morning person, I am not.” She could hear the children playing at the bus stop and someone’s dog was outside barking nonstop. ...She sniffed. “Mmm, coffee.” Brianna also smelled the unmistakable scent of bacon carried on the light breeze that blew lazily through the open window, ruffling the lace curtains. Her stomach growled. “When is it going to cool off?” She sat up and pulled the collar of the nightshirt she wore away from her damp body. She lifted the hair away from her neck in a futile effort to cool herself. “When are the air conditioning repairmen going to get here anyway?” If the air conditioner had been working, the windows would have been closed, and she could have gone back to sleep, blissfully unaware of the noise outside.MoreLess
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