Someone was calling her name in a gentle voice, but Harriet was too sleepy to wake up.
Maybe that voice was part of a dream.
Mom… Dad…
It was a voice filled with affection, the kind she had only ever heard from them. Harriet curled up tighter, refusing to wake.
Sunlight filtered through a thin cotton curtain, casting soft, fluttering shadows over her body. It was warm enough to be perfect for sleeping. The breeze felt like a mother’s hand soothing a baby, making it even harder to open her eyes.
She must be really tired. Still, sleeping on the sofa like this…
She heard a worried murmur again and wanted to nod.
Life was exhausting. She wanted to complain that everything was too hard, that she wanted someone to hold her and gently pat her back.
As if reading her mind, someone slipped an arm beneath her…
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Emilybronte
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