The Girl Who Lived (25)

Part XXV: Morning Ritual

I wake up because of the smell. Or I think I’m awake but it’s like a little girl me morning, so maybe I’m dreaming. I follow the aroma. Tom is stirring something rattly in an iron skillet. He turns when he hears my bare feet padding on the wooden floor. For a moment, it seems it is a dream, but then his face from back then turns into his today face, the lines and angles coming into focus.

‘What’s that? I remember that smell’

‘I’m roasting coffee beans. Like every morning I’ve been here.’

‘Coffee? Ginny loves coffee.’

‘Who’s Ginny?’

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