Rustle.
The wind slipped softly through the half open windows, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and morning dew, while pale sunlight stretched across the room inch by inch, climbing over the wooden floor before finally reaching the bed, where it stopped at a completely unmoving lump beneath the blanket.
[…Eleanor.]
There was no response, and the room remained quiet except for the faint whisper of the wind.
[…Eleanor.]
The blanket twitched slightly, and a muffled voice escaped from within as she muttered, "…Five more minutes…," sounding barely human, as if a dying creature was making its final request.
A long, exhausted sigh echoed in the room as the unseen presence replied, […You said that ten minutes ago.]
"…That was a different five minutes…" she murmured weakly, still refusing to emerge.
[…That is not how time works.]
