“Modesty Overrated”If ever a bed soothed my weary bones, the one I was lying in was hands-down a winner. I had found a simple, soft-looking, ruffled white cotton nightgown in the closet. It fit me perfectly. Pulling the patchwork quilt up around my neck, I was recounting the day in my mind and vowed to write a short story about my time-traveling experience to Rome.
The maid had brought me a tray with freshly-brewed tea and I reached one arm out from under the covers to pick up the fine bone china teacup and saucer. The steam from the hot liquid infiltrated all my senses as I sipped the tea. I was completely at peace when suddenly a rapping at the door interrupted my blissful state-of-mind. Murray ran to the door. Assuming it was the maid returning, I slid into the slippers at bedside and
