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"dreams came to me with a particular sweetness"
[f. dostoevsky]
xxx
Hundreds of long, pale green stems coated in little sharp leaves transcended into dark buds of which wore vibrant purple petals like tiny, delicate hats. The lavender was overgrown, bushy, and the many plots of it had grown so close together they appeared as one. Bees blissfully hovered over the plants and would latch onto the buds as though giving them a hug before moving to the next one; the pearly white butterflies their neighbours, flying about and circling each stem before finding their favourite as the sun adorned their paper-thin wings.
The soft shine of midday warmed her face and arms from behind the window; her caramel skin turning a golden glow beneath the rays and eyes becoming pools of honey as they studied the life before her. It was silent in the hospital wing, too, which only added to her static mind and mesmerized, dreamy daze; her stomach against the mattress and chin resting upon her folded arms; legs hidden and feet tangled beneath the crisp, white sheets of the bed she now called hers.
The silence was broken by a sudden eruption of loud talking and heavy footsteps and she cringed at the disturbance, looking to the large wooden doors now open at the far end of the room to see an abundance of broomsticks, scarlet and gold, and two tall, red-haired boys holding an unconscious boy with messy, raven hair.
