Morning.
The air was cold. A thin wisp of steam curled up from the coffee cup in my hand. Warm.
Before me, a golf course stretched out, its grass a perfect, dew-kissed green. The sun had just begun to rise, painting an orange streak across the horizon.
I sipped my coffee. Bitter. Warm.
"Emma."
My voice came out hoarse.
"Yes, My Lord."
She was standing behind me. I could feel her presence, like a shadow.
"Sit," I said.
A chair was pulled out soundlessly. She sat across from me. I didn't look at her; I just kept my eyes on the golf course.
Silence. Only the soft whisper of the wind.
"What do you think?" I asked, finally turning to her.
"About what, My Lord?"
"This view." I let my gaze drift back to the golf course.
Emma thought for a moment, her eyes also taking in the expanse of green grass before them.
"It's very beautiful, My Lord," she answered.
I took another sip of coffee, feeling its warmth and a hint of bitterness.
"I see."
I paused for a moment.
"Emma."
