she almost seems to sway slightly as she confidently breezes down the stone pathway, her long hazelnut hair falls down in thick waves, swishing from side to side as she begins to walk faster towards her destination. A sort of glow radiates around her, a small smile plays around her face, the sort of smile that would mesmerize everything around her.
I wrap my blankets around me tightly, swaddling myself like a baby in a cot. The chilly air circulates around my room, frost plasters the windows and wind punches the sliding door vigorously. Winter had come, more brutal than usual. Shuffling my body around, I sit up and am instantly hit with the warm aromas of cinnamon, sugar and melted butter, all drifting down the hallway. Twisting and turning through the windy hallway the scents travel lazily until it reaches its final destination. The smell of spices and buttery dough grab at me, trying to pull me up, towards it. It beckons me to come closer, whispering in my ears. Still wrapped in thick fluffy blankets I push myself up from the comfort of my bed. My fingertips run gently against the crisp white walls. Approaching the kitchen, anticipation begins to grow stronger. I stop and inhale deeply, it’s as if I can almost feel the sensation of it lingering on my tongue. My feet move to rest on the soft plush carpet, and that’s when I see it. Thick pieces of warm dough, perfectly golden brown on the exterior, drenched in butter, with pools of soft melty brown sugar, lie untouched on a glistening metal cooling rack. My mouth starts to water and I approach
pink – could make this a metaphor/ personification