Daydream_weaver's Refuge

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*Through the French doors set in the back wall of my cabin I watch as the thick fog creeps through the trees to envelope my refuge. It dims the pale afternoon light, creating a soft almost eerie glow. The effect brings a smile to my lips. I like the feeling it gives...isolated...cut off from that other place. They can't find me here. A fallacy, but still a lovely thought.

Fragrant steam rises from the mug cupped in my hands, the scent of lemon balm and chamomile as soothing as the drink itself. A sip of the hot liquid and I purr in pleasure as I feel the heat travel to my belly. So nice.

Turning from the foggy view I pad over to the pile of cushions strewn on the floor near the fire. There is a chill outside, but here there is warmth and comfort. With a contented sigh I sink down into the cushions, careful not to spill a single drop of my tea.*
 
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