Rose took a sip, the cool liquid a sharp contrast to the humid air. "Just thinking about how everything has its season. The roses, the garden... us." She leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. "I used to hate being a redhead, you know. I felt like I stood out too much, like I had to live up to some 'spitfire' reputation."
He walked down the wooden steps and handed her a glass. "Thinking about the past again?" redhead rose mature
Should the focus shift toward and a specific event that shaped her? Rose took a sip, the cool liquid a
Rose stood at the edge of her garden, the late afternoon sun catching the deep, fiery copper of her hair—a shade that had mellowed from the bright orange of her youth into something richer, like polished mahogany. At fifty, she moved with a quiet, deliberate grace that only comes from decades of knowing exactly who you are. "Thinking about the past again
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Would you prefer a different (like a mystery or a historical piece)?