(Credit: Jenny Terasaki, http://www.flickr.com/photos/jennyterasaki/4023416992)
Just five more minutes.
Clara saw images move behind her eyelids. They turned red, when she turned her head towards the window. So she turned her head into her pillow and sighed.
She imagined lying on a beach, the sun baking her back. But outside the rays of the sun were at their most dangerous, while her personal rays were only pleasant.
She took another deep breath with a smile.
Her stomach growled.
Breakfast time was long gone, but maybe lunch could still be had?
She could ask Henry to make her eggs if Laura was done with him.
She scratched a rib, stretched, yawned and rolled into her eiderdown.
Just five more minutes.
A Bolg? 