The curtains remind me of Flora's wedding dress, the way it hung so delicately from her neat frame. I guess it helps that the fabric is ivory with a touch of lace at the edges. The sunlight streams through the gap bringing the hope of a new day. Though the window is closed I can smell the roses just outside. A smile spreads over my face. It isn't the fragrance of those blooms I detect, but rose perfume on the drapes. How like Flora it is to bring something of nature into her home.
The curtains brought a welcome pop of colour into the room.
The curtains were drawn full wide as if the sunlight touched a stage.
The curtains add an orange glow to the morning light, every morning a perfect sunrise. It reminds Haydon of of the times he slept in a beach hut, watching the ocean emerge under the golden shimmer. For a moment his mind conjures the rhythmic waves, soft on the sandy shore and feels his heart beat to the same slow pace. He breaths in deeply. A new day has begun. He reaches his had out to the fabric, noticing how up close the light pours through every open space between fibres, no different from how it once came through the beach-hut walls, illuminating like brilliant fire-flies each dawn. The material is warm beneath his fingers, and when the sun floods the room, painting the colours anew, he feels a little of those golden rays soak into his skin.
The curtains were a creamy brown, the kind that glows golden in the daylight.