She snuggled into the soft eiderdown duvet and closed her eyes as it caressed her cheek. It still smelled of grandma's house, that floral scent taking her back to Sunday afternoons knitting with the old lady. But she was gone now. She hugged the duvet a little tighter and rolled so that it enclosed her in warmth. She'd sleep with it every night now, and on Sundays she'd knit with it across her knee,


She fell back onto the four poster bed, the mattress sunk under her weight and she snuggled deeper into the silken duvet. Her dark hair spread out around her head like a halo.

By Julia Tate-Davis, November 7, 2016.