Sweet dreams are made of this …

London ( Chapter 7)

Miss. A woke up to someone snoring; it was Johnny. Her somnolent eyes took in the view; a head of blond hair was hanging down, contrasting with the blue robe. She laid there observing for some time before quietly arising. As per habit, she walked to the window and reconnoitered. The promise of a new day in front of her gifted courage. Johnny awakened, noticing her impression on the couch. His eyes wandered around the library, and finding her by the window, said in a croaky voice, “Good morning.” She smiled, suggesting they get some brekky.

Both still in their robes and stiff from the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, they sat at the kitchen table sipping caffeinated energy while Mrs. Jenkins bustled to make them breakfast. Posh and Becks outside seemed to be hungry as well, according to their screeching at the backdoor. After a hearty meal, their life forces increased. Miss. A held her cup thoughtfully as if listening to the serenade of Lavazza. Johnny’s mind was preoccupied with different matters.

“Miss. A?” he began, breaking her trance. “Why does the cane have your initial and these lyrics on it?” he implored, putting it on the table between them. The line Sweet dreams are made of this faced her. Eyes glistening, and lips forming a smug smile, “Because it’s mine.” Johnny gawked in bafflement, and she…