Morning.
Seconaria.
**********
'Father, would barely blink if I never attend these lessons again.'
'However, Mother might actually kill me.'
'I am enough. I should be enough.'
'This is exhausting.'
'Maybe I should just fake up a seizure and leave right here and now.'
'What a waste of time.'
Freya, sat lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts, she found herself ensnared in the web of her governess's droning lecture.
The words of said lesson floated around her like mist, their meaning lost in the haze of her daydreams and sighs.
What did she perceive to be the height of melancholy?
Was it the widow of three children, toiling away in hopes of sustaining her family after her husband's departure?
Or perhaps it was the lingering gaze of a horse, confined within the four walls of a stable, longing for the freedom of the open fields.
