Impendet
Mesaana sits straight, expectantly, sipping a cup of tea. Her eyes are poised on the air in front of her. He would arrive at any moment, she is certain of that. The room is elegant if a touch simply furnished. A box of dominoes sits on the table waiting for her to attempt to construct something of them. The glowbulbs are rather bright. A cup of tea sits on the end table near her. Everything is arranged.
Every so often, her foot taps against the stone floor.
Every so often, her foot taps against the stone floor.