Anon rubbed his eyes, still groggy from the night’s rest. He looked around the colorful room, its vibrant tapestries and intricate designs starkly contrasting the simplicity of his usual surroundings. The faint aroma of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of the outdoors. He stretched, his muscles still sore from the previous day’s work, and went to the door. Just as he reached for the knob, the door flew open, and Sabina stood there, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of midnight.
“Good evening, sleepyhead,” she said with a teasing smile, holding a bright red candy apple. She took a bite, the crisp crunch filling the air. Anon couldn’t help but be mesmerized by her. She seemed to glow in the moonlight, every curve of her body illuminated just so. If he hadn’t met her, he would have sworn she was a figment of his imagination, too perfect to be real.
“Why are you up?” she asked, her voice soft and musical. “I thought you’d sleep all night.”
“I heard a noise,” Anon replied, his voice still heavy with sleep.
“Oh, that’s just the girls doing Gypsie stuff in the moonlight,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“What’s Gypsie stuff?” he asked, genuinely curious
Sabina stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, her voice a whisper of secrets.
The rooster crowed again, pulling Anon from his thoughts. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind. The colorful room was still there, a testament to the surreal reality he found himself in. He got up, his clothes neatly folded on the chair beside him. They were clean and smelled wonderful, a far cry from the soaked and dirty garments he’d worn the day before.
As he dressed, he couldn’t help but wonder at the mystery of it all. How had his clothes been cleaned and dried so perfectly overnight? The gypsies were full of surprises, and he was starting to realize just how much he had yet to learn about them.
He made his way to the picnic tables, where the camp was already bustling with activity. The gypsy children greeted him in unison, their voices a cheerful chorus of “Good morning, sleepyhead!” It brought a smile to his face, and he felt a warmth in his chest. He loved these people, their carefree spirit, and their sense of community. They were so different from anyone he’d ever known.
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