The very moment the first rays of daylight cast their warm, inviting glow in the room, Margarita stood up from her bed.
The sunlight trickling in through the window illuminated her sleepy figure. Her brown hair was all tangled and bushy, falling over her face in messy strands. She struggled to keep her beautiful silver eyes open, the soft, tentative whispers of sleep too poignant to ignore.
But she had to ignore the drowsiness. She had a whole day ahead of her.
Lady Margarita blinked. Once, twice, reorienting herself. And then, when the sleep washed away from her conscious system, she smiled a warm, brilliant smile, feeling a bit fuzzy inside.
That fuzzy feeling was, she judged, a beautiful thing. It always warmed her insides and kept her energetic for some reason.
And strangely, Rita found that she was getting more and more excited to wake up from sleep each day.
