Prompt:
The Inn was already bustling with late afternoon patrons as Janelle and her father stepped over the threshold, the familiar creak of the old wooden door announcing their arrival. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth a gentle embrace after their long journey. The scent of spiced cider mingled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, creating a comforting symphony of homecoming.
Janelle's gaze swept the room, taking in the familiar faces of regulars and the animated conversations that filled the air. Her father patted her shoulder, his calloused hand a silent reassurance. As they moved further into the room, Mignon, the innkeeper's daughter, descended the staircase with her usual buoyant grace. Her brown curls danced with each step, and Janelle noticed the peculiar brightness in her eyes, like sunlight glinting on a stream.
"Mignon," Janelle smiled, accepting the warm embrace offered. Her father received the same welcome, though his hug held a trace more of the weariness of travel.
"I have the most wonderful news," Mignon announced, her voice a quiet thrill barely contained. Her hands clasped Janelle's tightly, the cold of the outdoors still fading from Janelle's fingers.
There's a pause, and in it hangs a delicate balance of anticipation and fear—like holding your breath before a storm reveals its nature. Janelle searched Mignon's eyes, the reflection of firelight dancing in them.
"Dan is alive," Mignon breathed, her voice catching on the fragile edge of disbelief and elation. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, each one a testament to the hope she had dared not voice.
The words settled over Janelle like a gentle snowfall, unexpected and breathtaking. For a moment, time seemed to slip, a precious instant where the world was only the sound of their breaths mingling in the cozy warmth of the inn.
Her own breath faltered, a stutter that caught in her throat before breaking into a soft gasp. She felt her father's hand tense slightly on her shoulder, a subtle shift that spoke volumes more than words could. She turned to see him swallow hard, his eyes growing misty behind the rim of his glasses, worn thin by age but still clear enough to capture the flicker of renewed hope.
Mignon squeezed Janelle's hands, her fingers trembling with the weight of her own joy.
Artist
