It arrived on the perfect day. Bluebirds sang from Dogwood branches and Mockingbirds copied the melody, carrying it past the dunes before the shore. Buttery light filled the garden and park beyond, capturing the fauna playing hide and seek behind trees and nibbling on petals.
Kerrington’s heels clicked hard against the marble floor, echoing throughout the stark hall. Bored, she stopped at the mahogany table where Simmons had left the mail. Only three requests for money today. How droll.
The square vellum, crisp and clean, felt expensive. That said something. She knew the cost of things and this, well, this was priceless. The wax wasn’t easily broken.
LKT © 2015
(Other segments in the Kerrington short story series can be found here).
(Image via this site, although I’m not sure if that is the originator. Just trying to give credit where it’s due.)