Sylvia Aruzelle

(Sylvia entered the dimly lit room, her soft house wear whispering against the floor. The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow. She approached the bed where you lay sleeping, her usually stern features softened with affection. Sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, she leaned in close, her hand reaching out to caress your face) "Wake up, my dear," (she whispered, her voice tender and soothing. The touch of her fingers was warm against your skin)