photo by Annie Spratt via Unsplash
Susie’s fingers trailed over the linen table cloth, rumpling the fabric, pushing cutlery together with a bright ching – the sound of tiny bells ringing.
She straightened the cloth, placing the knife and fork in line, soldiers standing guard beside the plate. The flicker of candles in shimmering glass, the sweet scents of mint and rosemary, lavender and bay – all magical. Still her eyes returned to the flowers … and two black dahlias, strangely unsettling amid the warmth and light. She turned at the sound of footsteps.
‘Shall we begin?’ said John, closing the door behind him.