GOOD STORY TELLING!
When Vohne woke up, Cibelle had already left the warmth of their night-nest. Rubbing his palm over his eyelids, chasing the last remnant of sleepiness away, he wondered how he could have not noticed her getting out of bed.
From the bedroom, he could hear a constant murmur, coming from the kitchen. Listening closer, he couldn’t understand what was being said, but it seemed like Claudius was lecturing Cibelle. Or simply talking to himself, since he couldn’t hear his better half adding anything to the monologue.
Walking to the door, Vohne paused and peeked out of the room. Claudius was sitting at the table, his speech paced with the almost rhytmic ballet of his spoon, waltzing from the oatmeal bowl in front of him, to his wrinkled lips. Cibelle sat in front of him, her breakfast still untouched, visibly drinking the words of the elderly man. Something about the scene…
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