Chapter Six
The door to the cottage creaked on its hinges as it always did. It slapped against the frame when it was left to close on its own. Autumn filled the air with dusty endings, the fragrance of what was old and passing giving the nostrils a last glimpse of a summer past before it put those months away forever. Such longing in the atmosphere of changing, hunkering down into winter. The remembrance of warm days was in the air, but the breeze blew cold.
The cottage was bathed in autumn light, in the color of filtered sun flickering on the canvas of pictures hanging on the wall: the first shots timidly taken in the studio and the second set, some overlapping the first, of Savannah laid out on the bared striped mattress looking much like a voluptuous animal, a cat whose shape and
