010314 #jonquil Sunlight had really started forcing its way in through her bedroom windowpane now, and it was really illuminating the dust. Old curtains that looked like something hanging in an out-of-business shop window on the old main street of a piddly little town just like this one glowed from ceiling to bare floor. Her dresser looked strangely like an old woman's--a few little jars on the beige top, a silver-backed brush and comb set that had, in fact, been her grandmother's. She drifted over to it, yes work was calling, but still, she brushed her hair slowly, feeling the weight of the Victorian brush pulling itself smoothly through her long hair. Her hair, she decided, was pretty much the color of waffles too.