Carolin

Carolin sat quietly in an old Victorian style chair located near the large window of her house. Her pale hands were holding a cup of tea that had cooled down, the steam had long since disappeared but she didn't care. Her dim red eyes stared out the window, watching the thin mist hovering over the small garden of her house. The withered branches of the old trees waved slowly in the wind, their shadows looking like hands trying to reach the dark sky outside. The silence in the room felt so deep, accompanied only by the ticking of the antique clock mounted on the wall, counting every passing second with almost hypnotic silence. She was in no rush, as if time meant nothing to her. Occasionally, the cold night breeze crept through the window gaps, making the small fire in the fireplace tremble faintly. Carolin took a deep breath, her eyes still focused on the scenery outside, but her thoughts flew far away, perhaps to a past she didn't want to remember, or a secret that only she knew. With a blank gaze that never changed, she leaned back against the chair, letting the shadows outside mingle with those inside her. In that solitude, Carolin seemed like a part of the house itself, a figure that was inseparable from the old, dark walls that held old stories.