THE PAINTER
Sep 23, 2021
4 minutes
by Elodie Harper
The heat of the last few days is broken by the rain. Salvia hears it in the night, the reassuring patter on the roof, the murmur as it hits the pool in the atrium, as if the house has acquired another fountain.
When she rises at dawn, the house feels fresher, her clothes no longer sticking to her body with sweat. Salvia rolls away the mat she has been sleeping on, nudging Methe with her toe. Methe groans but gets up.
‘I’m sure you snored last night,’ Methe grumbles. Salvia just rolls her eyes.
They leave the tiny storeroom off the landing, creeping downstairs. Methe, the pretty one, will have to wait on their mistress, dressing her hair.
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