The morning light in October had a strange, quietд

The morning light in October had a strange, quiet weight to it. It didn’t rush through the curtains or flood the room like summer sunlight used to. Instead, it arrived slowly, hesitantly, as if unsure whether it was still welcome after all the rain and wind that had shaken the world through the night. The air smelled of cold metal and wet pavement, and the city beyond the window was half-asleep. Eleanor sat by the window with her coffee cup, tracing the rim absentmindedly with her thumb. It w...Read more