𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞

Florence Fawn

Florence paced behind her great doors, debating on whether to go see Clair. She was slightly frustrated at the fact he hadn't even mentioned Cathryn was his step-sister. Then again, she'd remind herself, why would it even matter. She wasn't Clair's priority, he didn't need to tell her everything. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Florence let her mind wander to that night.

She had heard their voice in Cathryn's room hadn't she. Now she had begun to doubt herself, had she really heard Cathryn's breathy giggle? Or was it simply a trick of her mind? Of course, Clair had fibbed and said the Cathryn had been having nightmares. At least Florence assumed he's been lying. A pang of sadness washed over her at the notion he may have lied to her. Then she tugged at her own hair to remind herself for being so stupid as to think he was even lying in the first place.

Her fingers played with the soft bedspread, as she melted into a daydream of earlier that day. Clair's body pressed up against her's. Their hands intertwined neatly on the carriage ride home. Then his words, when Florence had asked if they'd get to be like this again.

"Of course." He'd said.

Now Florence bolted up straight with intent. What was to stop her from walking to Clair's room this instant. Surely he'd be delighted to see her, maybe she'd even cheer him up from his dinnertime slump. Now, without a doubt in her mind, Florence flung her door open and raced down the hall, eager to see Clair.