Tofuwachtel
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Tofuwachtel
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30
The Little Salon
Lost in thought, she took off her hat and placed it on the sideboard.
The spicy air wafted through the still-open front door into the hallway, where the green silk wallpaper shimmered softly.
Her light taffeta dress rustled gently as she pulled the heavy wooden door shut, then arranged her dark blonde hair.
What she saw in the mirror pleased her. The green-gray eyes, the slightly rugged facial features, and the gentle smile. She blew herself a sweet kiss and hurried into the little salon.
Through the amber-colored curtains, the soft sunlight shimmered, casting a shallow, misty orange veil over the silky, gleaming parquet floor.
The artfully arranged small bouquet on the delicate coffee table caught her eye. The small yellow tea roses and the filigree foliage looked as if dusted. And she would soon indulge in a piece of the sweet melting delicacies on the tiered stand.
As she opened the garden door, the faint scent of aromatic herbs, sweet flowers, and earth drifted into the room.
She looked at the recamier upholstered in muted red and the large cushions resting on it, changing in golden resin tones with cream-colored brocade trim.
There she would soon make herself comfortable and, as always, quietly doze off.
The spicy air wafted through the still-open front door into the hallway, where the green silk wallpaper shimmered softly.
Her light taffeta dress rustled gently as she pulled the heavy wooden door shut, then arranged her dark blonde hair.
What she saw in the mirror pleased her. The green-gray eyes, the slightly rugged facial features, and the gentle smile. She blew herself a sweet kiss and hurried into the little salon.
Through the amber-colored curtains, the soft sunlight shimmered, casting a shallow, misty orange veil over the silky, gleaming parquet floor.
The artfully arranged small bouquet on the delicate coffee table caught her eye. The small yellow tea roses and the filigree foliage looked as if dusted. And she would soon indulge in a piece of the sweet melting delicacies on the tiered stand.
As she opened the garden door, the faint scent of aromatic herbs, sweet flowers, and earth drifted into the room.
She looked at the recamier upholstered in muted red and the large cushions resting on it, changing in golden resin tones with cream-colored brocade trim.
There she would soon make herself comfortable and, as always, quietly doze off.
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