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Chapter 3: The Morning After
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2024-10-29 19:42:56The Provencal sun shone brightly through the curtains, stirring Abigail from her troubled sleep. She awoke, the events of the previous day flooding back into her consciousness. The realization that she was truly stranded in the 19th century left her feeling disoriented. Taking a deep breath, she decided to face the day, uncertain of what it held for her.
Venturing out of the quaint guest room, she was drawn towards the smell of freshly baked bread and simmering stew. The scent was warm, welcoming and far different from her usual city breakfast of instant coffee and toast.In the kitchen, she found Vincent, the man from a time far removed from hers, cooking over a hearth. He had exchanged his artist's smock for a simple shirt and trousers. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms, and his hair was disheveled, a few dark strands falling into his clear blue eyes."Bonjour, Mademoiselle Abigail," he greeted her, turning with a soft smile. The sight of his easy demeanor momentarily displaced her worries. She returned his greeting and complimented him on the wonderful smell of breakfast.Vincent, it seemed, was not just an artist, but also a fair hand at cooking. He served her a simple but flavorful meal, and they shared it in companionable silence. The wholesomeness of the meal, combined with Vincent's quiet company, soothed Abigail.Throughout the meal, they exchanged small talk. Vincent asked her about her journey and seemed genuinely concerned when she vaguely explained she had lost her way. Meanwhile, she learnt more about him - a bachelor who lived on his farm, painting the Provencal countryside and playing his lute for company.In the following hours, Abigail ventured around the farm with Vincent. He showed her the sprawling lavender fields that belonged to him and where he drew much of his artistic inspiration. The field, in full bloom, was a sea of purple waves under the clear blue sky. It was a sight that would take anyone's breath away, even more so for Abigail, who had only known the concrete jungle of New York.Throughout the day, they barely scratched the surface of the true peculiarities of their situation. Yet, every interaction added a new layer to their budding friendship. From shared smiles to lingering glances, they were like two strangers getting acquainted, oblivious to the extraordinary circumstances.As the day ended and Abigail retreated to her room, she reflected on this strange twist in her life. Her host was a kind and gentle man, his lifestyle a far cry from the rush of the city she was accustomed to.Their worlds were poles apart, yet there was a comfort in his presence, a sense of calm she hadn't felt in years. She felt a strange pull towards him, not of romantic nature, but of kinship formed under unusual circumstances. As she fell asleep under the wooden beams of Vincent's farmhouse, she realized that while her situation was far from ideal, perhaps, just perhaps, it was not as disastrous as it seemed.Related chapters
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The sensation of time travel was as disconcerting as ever, an intense tingle crawling up her skin, followed by a sudden gust of wind that swept her off her feet. Abigail found herself amidst the familiar lavender fields of Provence, with the sun setting, casting long shadows over the land. But her eyes were only searching for one person – Vincent.Walking towards his house, her heart pounded with anticipation. The sight of the quaint, old house, surrounded by lavender bushes, evoked a sense of nostalgia and belonging. It was as if she was returning home after a long journey. As she moved closer, she noticed a light flickering inside the house. Her heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing Vincent, and she quickened her pace.Upon reaching the door, she hesitated, her hand hovering over the door knocker. Uncertain and nervous, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the moment. And then, gathering all her courage, she knocked. The sound echoed in the quiet evening, seeming almost
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The dawn broke, bathing the world in soft hues of pink and gold. Abigail woke up, her heart heavy with the weight of the decision she had to make. Despite the morning's beauty, a palpable tension hung in the air. Vincent was still asleep, his usually expressive face calm and peaceful in slumber. Taking a moment to observe him, she etched the contours of his face into her memory, a bittersweet pang in her heart.Determined to savor their last few moments, Abigail quietly slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She decided to prepare breakfast, a modest attempt to recreate the delightful morning surprise Vincent had once given her. After an hour of scrambling, toasting, and brewing, a simple but hearty breakfast was ready.The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee and the scent of toasted bread wafted into the bedroom, gently rousing Vincent from his slumber. He woke up to find Abigail standing by the window, the morning sunlight outlining her figure and illuminating her hair,
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