>Word Paint Blogfest!

>Today, I’m taking part in the Word Paint blogfest hosted by Dawn Embers. For my entry, I’ve snatched a passage from Dead Locked and improved it. Hope you enjoy reading it, and please visit Dawn’s blog to read more entries!

Happy Friday!

***

The flowering trees planted every few feet offered welcome shade as she strolled towards the center of town. She admired the pink, yellow, and blue colonial town houses embellished with lions’ head door knockers. Imogen imagined captains’ wives and merchants stepping out onto the dirt road to go to church or down the street to visit a friend. She thought of ladies climbing out of carriages in their silk dresses and men strutting around in wool waistcoats and breeches. She imagined Isaac Crewe wandering through town, maybe to visit Georgiana for tea. She smiled to herself as she squeezed the brass handle of the coffee shop door, sweeping into the converted colonial. Things really hadn’t changed so much. Instead of tea, she opted for an iced latte. But the principle was the same.

Inside, she ordered and stepped back from the white counter, ogling the brimming trays of scones and muffins out of reach inside a glass case. The plank floor squeaked as Imogen picked up her latte and waltzed over to one of the window nooks, relaxing into a wicker chair. The afternoon sun streamed over her hair, golden highlights peeking between auburn strands. She took a long sip of her coffee, relishing the chill that shot through her. Any other time she would have lost herself watching the queue of cars cruise into downtown and the friends chatting and carrying white shopping bags with pink ribbon handles. Imogen sighed. Too many other images pressed on her mind to let it wander.

Imogen abandoned her watching post and passed the cars and shoppers on her way back home. When she returned to her cottage, Sebastian sat on her stoop, his left eye red and bulging. Imogen expected him to fall off the radar for a while, and felt a surge of joy that he had come to her instead. She waved him inside to the kitchen to examine his eye, then wrapped ice cubes in a towel. She brushed his dark chestnut hair out of the way, stuck to his forehead with sweat, her index finger grazing his hot skin. She pressed the towel onto his eye while he leaned against the kitchen counter, not saying a word.

Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s