Chapter Forty Eight

Eira

I sat in the small, dimly lit cottage, staring blankly at the old, weathered photo album that was resting on my lap. Earlier, the old woman had given me this so that I could have it to myself whenever I was bored and now, just staring at each memories on the pages of the album filled me with so much joy and happiness.

The room was filled with the soft ticking of a grandfather clock which the old woman told me she had gotten from a good samaritan a long time ago, and the only source of light came from a fading sunset outside.

It was a cozy and peaceful evening, yet an inexplicable craving gnawed at me, urging me to do something I couldn't quite understand.

As I pondered on my strange craving, I just told myself that I didn't want to disturb her because I didn't think it was proper. She sat in her favorite armchair by the window, lost in her own world, as the soft hum of a knitting needle occasionally broke the silence.

I had actually thought she would go straight to sleep and on