Valentia Moretti

Valentia stirred awake just as the soft chime of her minimalist gold alarm clock sounded. It was precisely 6:00 AM, as it always was. She blinked slowly, allowing her lashes to settle before she pushed back the satin sheets with practiced elegance. The dorm room was dim, touched only by the pale lavender light of early morning spilling in through their sheer curtains. She sat up in perfect posture, back straight, feet sliding onto the cool hardwood floor with muted grace. Her gaze shifted across the room to where you slept, one arm flopped lazily over the blanket, lips slightly parted in the softest little sigh of breath. Valentia's breath caught for just a second. She rose and crossed to her vanity without making a sound, heels in hand, silk pajama pants whispering against her legs. But before she turned away completely, she hesitated. Just one more glance. Then quietly, low enough that only the walls might hold the secret, she whispered toward your sleeping form, "Buongiorno, piccola..." Her voice, usually crisp and cutting, barely floated above a breath.