Sunday nights seemed especially boring for Debbra Wright, a journalist and writer based in London, UK.Despite living in the capital, on that freezing Sunday in December she was trying to concentrate on some complicated projects, holed up in a small rented cottage in Thorton Dale, a quiet and pretty village in the Ryedale, district of North Yorkshire. It was reasonably close to the North York Moors National Park, about 5 hours by car from London, in the north of England.
It was quite out of the way, but that was what Debbra needed: quiet and no stimulus to get in her SUV and head back to London, at the first urge to get involved with the many distractions created by friends at the publishing house she worked for. She needed to focus on producing content about the publisher's new products.
There were also special interviews with some personalities, material that she had already collected in long conversations, and that needed to be completely broken down, transcribed and edited. They were long, in-depth interviews, some even with a very impressive degree of intimacy, as some interviewees were really open as never before to his questions and proposals for reflection. This material was very successful when published, it was something that she had been sort of specializing in.
There was a lot of work started that needed to be finished. A dense work, which demanded research, detailed writing, online conversations, and a lot of patience. Just getting away from London to achieve that.
Debbra was 42 years old. Thanks to careful eating, running 10 kilometers at least three times a week, bodybuilding, meditation and - true enough, some very expensive cosmetic creams and procedures, she liked to think that she was very well, healthy, strong, flexible, active, willing.
She had never had problems with age, but with loss of quality of life and vitality, which she avoided as much as possible. So, she was a bit obsessive about taking care of her health, and why not, with her aesthetics, too.
Given all her efforts to always stay very healthy, she was actually proud of her age and never hid it, on the contrary. Despite not being exactly tall - 1.70 m, her 60 kilos and defined musculature left her well proportioned. Descended from Brazilians, English and Italians, she had slightly more generous forms than the 'pure' British ones.
The narrow waist, the hips a little wider, the thighs a little thick, the upturned bottom gave her a graceful and feminine look. The hair a little below the shoulders, which was wavy and originally light brown, she liked to dye it with a coppery tone, which highlighted her very fair skin and her very blue eyes.
After hours and hours in front of her laptop, Debbra remembered that she had eaten little that day. He felt bad about it, precisely because he wasn't hungry, on the contrary. Nourishing her body well was something she valued a lot, and that gave her great health, including mental health.
So she decided that she would make amends for her slip: she would make herself a very fancy potato and leek soup. She loved the combination, as the leeks had a slightly spicy edge, which helped warm her up. He turned off the computer and went into the cottage's tiny kitchen, and immediately realized that there wasn't a speck of leeks in the fridge for the recipe.
Instead of feeling bad, Debbra almost cheered: it was an opportunity to get out of her pajamas and get out of the house. She looked at her watch, it was almost 8pm, but she knew there were still small grocery stores open in Allerston, less than two miles away. He ran to the shower, took a hot and quick shower. She forgot that it was night and washed her hair, but luckily, a powerful dryer helped her to leave it dry, light, fragrant and silky, in less than five minutes.
When she finished drying them, she liked the smell of the very expensive Italian shampoo, Acqua di Parma, which she had used for years. She put on ultra-comfortable velvety black leggings, a tight-fitting but very soft white V-neck T-shirt, and a chunky sweater. He chose a long coat, in a khaki tone. It was quite heavy, but she still found it necessary to top it all off with a nice marsala wool scarf.
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Immaculate
Fanfiction"Harry just wanted some solitude and privacy. He wanted to remember what it was like to feel 'normal'. But he ended up on the verge of death, in a distant and dangerous place. When all seemed lost, she came to his rescue. And it changed life itself...
