While Daniel slept, a rustling noise kept Meridia awake. The guests were long gone, the lanterns in the garden extinguished hours ago. Sweaty with their lovemaking, his face was buried in her neck, his breath on her collarbone slowly relighting desire in her blood.
She got up without waking him and put on her robe. The noise was getting louder, closer, as if coming from outside the door. Quietly she tiptoed past the bed and went out. The hallway was dark except for a dim moon seeping through the skylight. The rustling was by then a murmur, a low monotonous droning of flies or mosquitoes. Meridia tightened her robe. Minding the piles of shoes and magazines that littered the hallway, she drifted past the sisters' room, at the foot of the stairs. The droning was coming from the second floor, where Eva's sitting room and the master bedroom were located. Meridia gripped the banister and listened. There was no doubt about it. The noise was that of bees buzzing, hundreds of them, needling each other in rage. Suddenly, before she could venture another step, the bedroom door opened with a jerk. A greenish light spilled down the staircase. Quickly, Meridia retreated to her room.