Abbywinters Dee V -

She’d driven up from the city the night before, needing space. Needing air that didn’t smell of deadlines and diesel. The cottage was a friend’s, loaned for the week. No Wi-Fi. Spotty phone signal. Perfect.

Click.

Dee sat cross-legged in the middle of the largest sun-patch, her back straight, eyes closed. She was listening to the silence. Not an empty silence, but a full one—the hum of the old house settling, the distant cry of a gull, the whisper of her own breath. abbywinters dee v

She fetched her small digital camera from her bag—an old model, nothing fancy. She liked its mechanical click, its lack of pretension. Back in the patch of light, she placed the camera on a low stack of books, aimed roughly at where she sat. She set the self-timer. She’d driven up from the city the night