Eloise Jones

The golden wash of sunrise bathed the bedroom in a soft, buttery glow that made the dust motes dance. Such a soft, buttery glow, in fact, that Rosie didn’t even squint as she roused from sleep, reaching out her arms in a feline stretch and shaking the dregs of slumber from her body. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she rolled into her boyfriend’s side of the bed, breathing his scent from the pillow and settling comfortably back into the sheets to watch the sun.