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The universe was made to be seen by her eyes only. Every crevice, every hidden jewel, and corner that felt infinitely indecipherable was so perceptible. Virginia Marjorie Curtis could read the glorious world around her like the back of her hand. It was her muse, her inspiration, her strength. For a while, at least.
For now, she just wanted to enjoy the bountiful pleasures of sleeping without having to wake up for an early morning lecture course.
In the time she was gone, Sodapop must've exchanged her sheets. Her soft quilt was replaced with a cotton blanket that was much more suitable for the warm weather. The sunlight streamed through the flouncing petals of her magnolia tree that was still in bloom and stronger than ever. The tiny spaces between the fluttering blossoms were like diamonds, twinkling on and off as her room brightened up.
Not that it mattered to Virginia. She was trying to sleep off the jet lag as much as possible though it was one of the most thrilling experiences of her life to fly in a real plane. Tickets were usually quite expensive but she had been given such a tender and dear gift by a kindred spirit whose mark will never leave her. For that, Virginia knew she would always have something to be grateful for even when she was in the depths of despair.
Still asleep, Virginia slid her hands under her fluffy pillow, feeling comfort in the coolness. She hugged it tighter, feeling nothing but peace.
For about five more seconds.
Her eyes snapped open as a loud knocking echoed in her room. Virginia groaned— the sound almost sounding like an anguished sob.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," it was Ponyboy, "you can't sleep forever."
"Go away," Virginia grumbled, her words mushed together as her lips were buried in the fabric of her pillow. Regardless of whatever it was audible, he should've gotten the point.
Virginia pushed herself up from her bed, pulling out strands of her hair that clung to her lips unfashionably. Her eyes were practically closed shut and she spent a good few minutes rubbing them until she saw bright spots. It was no face for a young debutante of the rich Southern land. Besides, Virginia always loved to make herself look presentable in her own regard and no one else's.
She failed to unpack a majority of her suitcases except the one filled with her newer clothes. Gone were the days of struggling to find a pair of denim jeans without much paint splattered on them. Virginia wondered what the town would've thought if they saw her now. She hung up dress after dress, some long, some short, two with skirts that she could twirl around in and dream of a life in a grand castle.
She slipped on a cream dress that almost seemed to wrap around her body. It bore a 'V' neckline and a limp bow around the waist. The hem flirtatiously grazed the top of her knees and she hoped it would distract from her age. The entirety of the fabric was printed with fuchsia flowers so tiny, it was hard to tell they were blooms unless observed closely. Virginia grinned at the two pockets sewn on the front and quickly ran a comb through her smooth locks. Over the years, she gained a fond attachment to her hair and took better care of it. She slowly pulled out the pink curlers that were loosely attached to her scalp that started to ache not long after. Her locks fell in gentle curls like ribbons and she carefully used a fine comb to tease up a bump in the back, securing it with pins that she knew would disappear when she would try to find them later in the night.
