A Desk Full of Dreams
Charlotte Christianson sat at her late father’s desk, exhausted, but still with much work to do. She read the document over and over, until her jaw was sore from clenching.
“Surely he did not intend to donate such a large sum to…a monastery? Monks live as paupers! No, this just will not do.” Charlotte sighed, setting the parchment atop a fast-growing pile of things to be destroyed. She picked up another paper and felt a headache coming on as she read the first paragraph.
“It is a wonder that there was any fortune left for me to inherit, father.” she thought to herself, settling back in his chair. Charlotte picked up a goblet and drank the last of her wine, swallowing hard as she tried to rinse away the putrid taste of bile that rose in her throat.
“Why would anyone want to finance an orphanage?” she asked herself as she set her face down against an empty spot on his desk, the marble refreshingly cool against her slightly feverish skin.
“More importantly…” she thought, “…what was his fascination with charity?”
Charlotte’s thoughts were soon muddled as she fell into a deep slumber.