The smooth rays of a newborn sun visited Vanilla's room through her unattended window, revealing floating dust and illuminating the wooden cage with fresh, natural light.
'Cock-a-doodle-do!' A rooster sang his crow, and the raven-haired girl clumsily spread her eyelids. The terrible migraine that made her want to kill herself some hours ago was finally gone. 'How strange' she thought to herself as she took a deep morning yawn. She didn't remember anyone growing chickens on St. Bernard of Clairvaux street, especially for it being the high-class neighborhood it was.
