The weather forecast was for a rainy weekend, perfect for sleeping in. The day before, she had put a few novels on her bedside table, including the one she had started. She had just picked it up and opened it to the page where she had stopped, when an unexpected and insistent ray of sunlight disturbed her concentration. She rolled over onto her back, while her lyre-shaped hand held the book open. Her reading interrupted, she stared into space. What was she thinking at that moment?
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