The Lost Heiress:Althea Version

In the late afternoon, a small city "Merida" in Venezuela. A golden light spilling through the windows,Althea, 20 years,is just coming home work .Her mother Anya is in the kitchen, while her father Gregor is outside fixing something on the porch.

The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and fresh fruits. Althea leaned against the doorway, watching her mother ,rolling dough with slow, practiced hands with her brown hair braided and pinned like always,a thin streak of flour on her cheek

Thought you was working late ,Mrs Montiel said without looking up,voice warm as tea."I left early " she replied, toeing off her shoes ,then walked to her mother's side and kiss her cheeks which made her smile, she ask for her father only for Anya to glance that the window, Althea looked at that direction and saw her father. She quickly run there to give him a kiss

She went back to the kitchen and help her mother, once they were done ,she set the dining table with dishes and jug of fruit juice.She called to her father Mr Montiel in a few minutes later him gave and they started digging in.

Once they have finished dinner, Althea lay hold of the dish to the kitchen basin and sponge it all ,while her mother wipe the dining table.

Now it's around 8pm ,Althea make her way up stairs to her room to wash up,once her was done,she arranged her documents for the next day, she looked in the mirror seeing herself, how much she has grow,her big eye ,tan skin plump lips and her hair falling over her shoulders.

Lay in bed ,she drowse to the dream land ,a lullaby humming by a woman with a child in her hand .Althea open her eye and realised it's the dream, she always dreamt of,it kept her thinking but she slept again cause she's tired.

It's early morning -mist still clings to windows, birds are waking and the scent of coffee fills the air. Althea is in her pajamas, barefoot with her mess hair ,she padded into the kitchen, the wood floor cool beneath her feet. The sky outside was just beginning to blush blue,soft light washing through the curtains like water colour