Annalisa Cappelli stood with her hips pressed against the kitchen bench, absent-mindedly eating her toast and letting the crumbs fall into the sink—something she did every morning. Her eyes watched the sky, still dark except for a sliver of shimmering moon.
The low, dense morning mist covered the paddock and a stillness held the land in its grip, as if the whole world had paused to take a deep breath before the day began. In a minute or two the sun would rise above the horizon and flood the fields behind the little house with golden light.
She loved this moment. Here, in the magical space between night and day, she could believe that everything would work out fine, that she wasn’t as in over her head as she knew herself to be. The borrowed hope lasted exactly one precious second, and she wouldn’t miss it for the world…
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