Prison was a room high in a tower, with wide windows and balconies. Every day she awoke to sunshine and to the awareness that someone watched her as she slept. But who? And why?
As sunlit day followed sunlit day she was no nearer to understanding. And then….
It was afternoon and bees were droning in the roses that scrambled around her balcony when a blue butterfly alighted on her hand. It lazily moved its wings.
They took her wings the day they brought her here, and the crystal brightness of remembered agony stole her breath.