Overwhelmed by a sudden fatigue, I follow her leisurely. When I reach the landing, she leans against the doorframe of the first room. However, instead of taking notes, she simply stands in the light of the setting sun, which makes her hair shine. I step up behind her, trying to discern what's distracting her from her work.
There is nothing. Just dust particles floating through the room as if moved by an unseen force. A crooked wooden floor, an old-fashioned lamp covered in cobwebs, and an armchair with velvet upholstery, which mice have undoubtedly made their home in. Yes, definitely. The dark pellets next to the lion's paws where the chair's legs meet are a clear indication.
"We used to accommodate seasonal workers here," I say because I feel embarrassed about the room's dilapidated state. I wait for a response in vain. Cautiously, I lean forward. "Hanna?"
She doesn't answer, but now that I'm so close to her, I can hear her humming a melody. And she has that look on her face again, as if she's seeing something so wondrous that it almost brings tears to her eyes. In a trance, she tilts her head to one side, then the other. The gentle light makes her skin appear soft, and her eyes are… so full of magic that I can't get enough of looking at them.
On the contrary, I want to examine them more closely. I yearn to discover what hides within the delicate sea-green pattern.
I cautiously touch her arm. "Hey."
Startled, she flinches, then looks around as if having difficulty realizing where she is.
"What were you dreaming about?" I ask gently.
Despite all my caution, she widens her eyes, turns away in shame, and forcefully pinches her forearm.
