The next day it rained and since they didn’t have anything scheduled, Claire and her grandmother decided it was a good time to tackle the attic.
The young woman hadn’t been up there since she was twelve, but she still remembered the warmth of the desiccated air trapped under the tin roof.
The attic served as a drying room for the herbs and spices her grandfather grew in the garden. Its space was very still, so the particles of dust in the bright spotlight of the glazed roof hatch looked frozen in time.
She opened the top drawer and an intense violet fragrance filled the space. The violet perfume lingered in the air, so thick one could almost taste it. The light shifted quickly as a cloud passed over the hatch and the entire attic got drenched in purple light.
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