The sun has risen and I am alone waiting for him to appear. I smile to myself as I anxiously anticipate his arrival and all it brings: A fleeting blush, a familiar touch, the scent of cinnamon in the air. I hear the creak of the door and the soft clink of fine china as it is set upon the mahogany nightstand. He begins to speak of the day's duties however my attention is focused not on his words but upon on his moving, so very inviting mouth. I open the newspaper and he takes his leave, closing the door quietly behind him. A single white rose adorns the shiny sterling serving tray cut moments ago from my estate garden. Before my eyes it turns the most majestic shade of blue and I take it, deeply inhaling it's fragrance only to find not a rose's scent, but his.