The first light of morning slipped through the gap in the curtains, drawing a thin golden line across the wooden floor. Sylvia opened her eyes slowly; her breathing was steady, her body lighter than the night before. For most people, this hour would be too early but to her, it felt… right. There was no drowsiness pressing down, only a soft, unhurried quiet.
She sat at the edge of the bed and let her feet sink into the warm rug. For a moment, she looked toward the balcony, the eastern sky was blushing pink, and the faint scent of dry leaves drifted in through the curtains. Winter was drawing near, and the air had that different taste: a little sharp in the nose, but clean.
