[4] Eloquence

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"Miss Angelina,"

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"Miss Angelina,"

I roll over in bed, my sheets curling around my body, waking from a haze of restless thoughts. As I open my eyes, I'm greeted by the sight of a blonde, cheerful Florence, standing by the window where the morning sun filters in. The vibrant rays highlight her transformation; she appears a world apart from the shivering, distressed girl I had comforted the night before.

Her freckles are more pronounced this morning, dancing across her cheeks with a fresh intensity. Her face carries a soft blush, and there's a bright, almost mischievous glint in her eyes. I can't help but give her a look of bemusement, curious about the sudden change in her demeanour. She responds with a small, knowing smile and steps closer, carrying a tray laden with breakfast goodies.

It's a meticulously arranged assortment – a display that has Diana's touch all over it. From the perfectly buttered toast to the freshly squeezed orange juice, every item is placed with care. Florence places the tray on my bedside table, and I catch a whiff of warm croissants and freshly brewed coffee. I can't help but wonder what Diana had told her to bring up such a spread.

I was certain I had begged Diana days earlier to stop sending me food. She was already overworking herself, constantly cleaning up after Luke and me, cooking, processing goods, and managing the myriad of hormones that plague this household.

Yet, now, faced with Florence and the breakfast tray, all my words seemed to catch in my throat. I couldn't muster the effort to push them out. It was as if my voice had abandoned me, leaving me mute despite my desire to speak. The grimacing pain in my back from the awkward position I had slept in only added to my frustration.

I wished desperately for words to come forth, to express my concerns, to thank Florence, and to release the tension coiled within me. Instead, I remained silent, my body betraying me as I struggled to find a comfortable position. I reached behind my neck, trying to disentangle the hair that had gotten trapped beneath me during the night.

As my fingers worked through the knots, I took a deep breath, attempting to gather my thoughts. The scent of the warm breakfast wafted through the room, mingling with the fresh morning air. Despite my discomfort and unspoken words, a part of me was grateful for Diana's relentless care, even if it meant she was overburdening herself.

My sheets were soaked in sweat, suggesting I had been tangled in them for most of the night. It seemed I might have had a nightmare, or perhaps just a restless dream. Groggily, I scanned the room, trying to determine the time of day. Judging by the light, I guessed it was late morning—perhaps around eleven. A wave of bitterness washed over me for being disturbed so early.

"Florence, it's the middle of the morning. Did you have a reason to wake me so early?" I groaned, sitting up and leaning forward to rub my eyes. Grasping the duvet, I pulled it tighter around me, suddenly aware of the cold air circulating in my room. My eyes fell on the tray again, reminding me of my hunger. I hadn't eaten in perhaps a day, maybe two, having been too busy solving problems for others—like chasing a runaway pet through the forest in heels in the dead of night.

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