The reed fence was the first thing I noticed, then the blue.

I sat with the cottage for a long time before going inside. The patio was paved in flat stones, the kind that hold the morning cool a little longer than they should. A bamboo pergola threw a soft lattice of shade across everything. The cottage itself was light blue, stucco, with French doors thrown open onto an interior staircase that climbed up into shadow. A white rope hammock hung close to where I stood, beside a small wooden table. A wicker chair with a green cushion waited near the door, and an ottoman sat off to the right, looking like it had been carried out and forgotten. On the side wall, a mural half-faded by sun. Potted plants and a few cacti softened the edges, and a reed-fence screen kept the rest of the world a polite distance away. I did not move for a while. It was the kind of place that asks you to sit before it asks you anything else, and I let it.