CHAPTER 2 - CRESSID
Cressid
presses her finger into the glass top
of the coffee table and surveys the mark.
The voice came un-beckoned, out of nowhere.
But it has to be a fantasy. Otherwise
she would be crazy, which she is not.
Just long overdue for a real date.
She floats behind the armchair and leans
into it. It wasn’t really a voice,
she decides, more like a sense of someone
reaching out. A presence touching her.
She imagines someone watching from some
distant window and rolls her hips against
the chair. Someone spying. Who knows what
they have in mind. She pulls away from
the chair, dispelling the fantasy, and
moves to the window where the sky is darkening.
Eyes closed, she rests her forehead against
the cold glass and listens inwardly. She
holds her breath. Nothing. Gone. Frustration
wells up. She gives her bottom a vigorous
slap, waits for the sting, then lets the
prickling send her to the bookcase. It’s
been ages since she read Anias Ninn. Somewhere
there’s a story about two women
who go riding together. Settling into
the sofa, she glances up and discovers,
to her pleasure, that it has begun to
snow.
