Morning light sat pale and even across the upper floor of Nellie's mansion.
The house was too large for one person. Hallways held their own quiet. Rugs swallowed footsteps.
The air still carried last night's soap and the faint sweetness of the oil she used on her hair.
Somewhere downstairs a clock marked the hour with a soft, expensive click.
Nellie stepped out of the bathroom with nothing on.
Steam followed her into the corridor and thinned against the cooler air. Her skin was still damp in places.
Water beaded along her collarbones and ran in a thin line down the centre of her chest.
Her ash brown hair clung to the back of her neck in silky wet strands.
She had left her glasses on the sink.
Without them her face looked younger and softer, the usual careful look replaced by the loose calm that only came after a long bath.
Her body was small in the shoulders and narrow through the ribs.
