On the Verge (A Charmed Life Book 1) by Joseph Bonis

Author:Joseph Bonis
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: Joseph Bonis
Published: 2016-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8: Transition

Tracy woke up with the light of morning bright on her face, rousing slowly from a warm, relaxing dream that slipped tantalizingly just out of her memory, even as she reached for it. She came to her surroundings gradually, before impressions of last night swelled to full recall with a thrilling rush that made Tracy squirm happily as she stretched the night's kinks out.

She was laying on the couch, wrapped up in a thick, soft comforter and curled around several pillows. She breathed deeply of the cool air from windows cracked open. Sing must have opened them for her, knowing how she liked fresh air. Her eyes blearily focused on the room around her, and she looked at the coffee table, where the rose Sing had given her lay between the two extinguished candles with a small folded note forming a tent over the stem.

Regretfully, Tracy unwound herself from the warm comforter and faced the morning, sighing with the necessity of waking up. One of these days, she was just going to stay in bed all day, wrapped up in a warm blanket and breathing cool air, and perhaps eating nothing but chocolate and day-old popcorn. Picking up the card, she opened it up and let her eyes linger over the words penned within. Smiling warmly, she read it again, more slowly. Sing really was such a sweetie. She walked over to the front door and threw the deadbolt that he hadn't been able to lock on the way out, her eyes watching the card more than where she was idly walking.

The card was a soft cream, made of thick card stock. He must have had it ready for use, just in case, and she couldn't bring herself to be surprised over the discovery that he could write with beautiful calligraphy. She smiled wistfully, thinking about the previous night as she wandered on over to her bedroom. She read its gentle poetry one more time before opening her jewelry box and slipping it in underneath the upper tray. It seemed an appropriate place to keep it.

She lingered for a while, smiling at the box, thinking of the previous evening fondly. Her eyes wandered lazily around the room, until they settled on the clock.

“Oh no!” she exclaimed to herself. “I'll be late!” She leaped to her feet and hurried to the bathroom, almost tripping over Nameless. “I can't believe I slept so long!” Nameless jumped up on the counter as she pulled off her clothes, getting ready for the shower.

“And now I'm talking to myself,” she said, shaking her head with a smirk on her lips. Nameless let out a quiet mew, curiously. “No, Nameless. A lady living by herself and talking to her cat isn't much better.”

She showered swiftly, then quickly got dressed in a simple black skirt and white blouse. “No time for the bus,” she mused, “I'll have to take the truck.”

St. Michael's was a small church, old and made of stone. It used to be a Catholic church, but it had been replaced with a new, bigger church a few blocks down.

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