A jarring gong shattered the silence. Iris slapped her book on the end table and sighed. She kicked back the footrest and forced her wiry frame out of the recliner.
“Coming.” She whipped open the door, auburn hair springing.
A round silhouette waved a contraption towards her. “Delivery for Mrs. Collingwood.”
Iris blinked in the sunlight and scrutinized the UPS uniform and truck in the drive. “Yes?”
“Sign here, please.” He thrust a package forward. “Good day.”
* * *
Sheer fabric of emerald, the colour of dreams and desire, lay nestled in cloud-like froth. “Oh!” A heart-shaped card tumbled to the floor.