It was well past midnight.
A gentle breeze swept across the spacious courtyard, stirring the leaves of the surrounding trees.
Charlotte was sitting alone on one of the wooden benches beneath the covered terrace overlooking the garden.
She was wearing a loose black cardigan over a simple white shirt.
One leg was crossed over the other, and her head rested against the back of the bench as she gazed absentmindedly toward the moon.
Between the fingers of her right hand, there was a cigarette.
A faint orange glow appeared at its tip as Charlotte brought it to her lips and took a slow drag.
She held the smoke for a moment before exhaling, watching the pale gray wisps disperse into the cold night air.
She lowered her hand and stared at the burning tip of the third.
It has been quite some time since she last smoked.
Brandon disliked the smell, and after he once complained that she tasted like tobacco when he kissed her, she found herself reaching for cigarettes less and less.
