Elena: Cimmy’s Garden - excerpt from the novel The Garden

The first rays of sun snuck into her bedroom, diffracted into rainbows by the large panes of beveled glass. Somebody had left one of the large French doors, the ones that led into the garden, open, and the breeze that blew in brought with it the scent of the night rain. Cimmy smiled and rushed to her feet, noticed that she’d fallen asleep in the gown she’d been wearing the night before, and was surprised to notice that the delicate silk fabric wasn’t wrinkled. She loved that dress, blushing with the color of ripe apricots, and wore it often; she loved its simple cut, which blossomed amply at the waist to form a full circle, perfect for twirling. One strap had fallen off her shoulder and she instinctively adjusted it, while she tried to remember where she had left her sandals the night before. She couldn’t remember which room it was, nor did she care.