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She heard his spurs jingle in the darkness as he came into the room where she lay, and she opened her eyes, but with no moon or starlight broaching her draped window, she did not expect to see him. Nevertheless, she knew her husband by the odors he brought with him into the room: the musty smell of dust, the pungent odor of sweat and leather, the hint of tobacco.
A match flared, and he lit the candle on the washstand. Its sputtering flicker lighted the angles and planes of his face, his eyes shaded by the wide brimmed hat he hardly ever removed.
~~~
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Well I assume he removes the hat, sometimes... Lovely scene
ReplyDeleteExcellent!~caught me right up.
ReplyDeleteWonderful scene you painted with so few words
ReplyDeleteLove how she knows him by scent! Wonderful snippet!
ReplyDeleteSo few words, so much to feel. Or should I say, so much to smell? Now I'm wondering what will happen next!
ReplyDeleteLove how you pulled all the senses into that short snippet!
ReplyDeleteI can't help feeling it is the height of bad manners to come to bed wearing spurs.
ReplyDeleteGreat writing style.