[Week 3: Wednesday - 6:45 PM.]
I was walking through the manor toward the library when something stopped me in the hallway.
Not a person. Not a sound. Just the light itself.
Golden. Too golden for artificial bulbs. Natural evening sun filtered through somewhere nearby.
The entrance to the Japanese wing sat open, the shoji screen pulled back on its track. I'd walked past this entrance a dozen times before and it had always been closed. Private. Do not enter without invitation.
Now it gaped wide.
Through the opening, I could see straight through to the veranda. The engawa, Mrs. Tanaka had called it. A wooden deck that overlooked the zen garden.
And sitting on that deck, framed perfectly in the doorway like a painting hung in a museum, was Sabrina.
My brain tried to process the image.
