In the dark room, even the ticking had a relaxed feeling, as if it was a heart-beat at rest. Tara felt as if the air moved like cool water and the aroma of her aunt's scented candles infused her far more deeply than it did in the light of day. In the twilight the fabrics were muted hues, as if they too awaited dawn to ignite their colours for all to see.
The dark room was like a place out of time, a place to rest without consequence. The darkness in that way was a sanctuary, a place to recharge and forget the things the world said had to be done. It wasn't that Tia couldn't or wouldn't, but rather that she needed that sense of stepping out of the craziness for a while. So, in the darkness that stole even her own form, she was content to let the night pass and awake when daylight streamed in with its bold confidence.
There was something in the darkness that was like a promise, like the world before dawn. It was a room as a canvas rather than a finished work of art, and to Tom, it was all the more exciting. With each movement something new came to his hand, a tiny fragment more of the furniture and antique ornaments took form, as if they were waiting for him to make them real.
Darkness came like the thick velvet curtains of the theatre. It was as if the daytime had been one part of a play and the rest was to come after this intermission of night. Simon let his eyes wander the furniture, the audience to the dramas played out in that room, to the highs and lows of emotions, and to the love that dwelt in that house. As usual he wandered to the window to gaze at the stars, to peek into the universe... the spectacle that was given when all else was taken... as if commanding him to look and feel both his smallness and his oneness with something greater.
In that dark room there were shapes in monochrome, of course the daylight could bring brilliant fuchsia or deepest scarlet, but for now it could be a scene from a black and white movie. The silhouettes were already more discernible than they were only a short while before and Sarah gazed from the window; any moment the sun would kiss the sky orange, igniting a new dawn, bringing the chorus of the birds.