Soul of the Fire
“Her thoughts fumbled woodenly in the numb blur between asleep and awake. She wanted nothing so much as to sleep on. The straw beneath her was bunched just right. It always bunched just right in perfect, comfortable, cuddling lumps, right as it was time to be up and out of bed.
She expected her husband to slap her rump any moment. Julian always woke just before first light. The chores had to be done. Maybe if she lay still, he would leave her be for just a few moments longer, let her sleep f...or a few dreamy minutes more.
She hated him at that moment, for always waking just before first light and slapping her rump and telling her to get up and to the day’s work. The man had to whistle first thing, too, when her head was still a daze in the morning, rickety with sleep still trying to get out of her head.
She flopped over on her back, lifting her eyebrows in an effort to wake by forcing her eyes open. Julian wasn’t there beside her.MoreLess
She expected her husband to slap her rump any moment. Julian always woke just before first light. The chores had to be done. Maybe if she lay still, he would leave her be for just a few moments longer, let her sleep f...or a few dreamy minutes more.
She hated him at that moment, for always waking just before first light and slapping her rump and telling her to get up and to the day’s work. The man had to whistle first thing, too, when her head was still a daze in the morning, rickety with sleep still trying to get out of her head.
She flopped over on her back, lifting her eyebrows in an effort to wake by forcing her eyes open. Julian wasn’t there beside her.MoreLess
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