Sea Glass Summer
“Even so, she didn’t wake as early as Oliver Cully had done that Saturday morning. It was only a little after six when she emerged from a muddled dream which featured Nellie Armitage climbing a tree to rescue one of the furniture movers, while a cat watched from the bushes. Surprisingly there was no nightmarish quality to the semi-transparent images, no revisiting of a car hurtling toward her at annihilating speed, no volcanic eruption of headlight glare disintegrating into doomed blindness. No ...heart pounding terror to jolt her upright.
As the scene faded into drowsy consciousness, she was vaguely aware of lying in a constricted position, knees drawn up, elbows pinned to her side and lacking in covering. She opened her eyes to fuzzy unfamiliarity. Not surprising given yesterday’s move to Bramble Cottage. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa. Then uncertainty filtered in. The feel of the fabric under her was soft velvet, not the linen of her slip covers; also the soft glow from a mulberry-shaded lamp wasn’t right.MoreLess
As the scene faded into drowsy consciousness, she was vaguely aware of lying in a constricted position, knees drawn up, elbows pinned to her side and lacking in covering. She opened her eyes to fuzzy unfamiliarity. Not surprising given yesterday’s move to Bramble Cottage. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa. Then uncertainty filtered in. The feel of the fabric under her was soft velvet, not the linen of her slip covers; also the soft glow from a mulberry-shaded lamp wasn’t right.MoreLess
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