A Day in the Life of Miss Emily in William Faulkner's A Rose for Emily

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A Day in the Life of Miss Emily in William Faulkner's A Rose for Emily
Poor Emily a lonely soul in a lonely dusty room, waiting for her Yankee sweetheart to return and give her some of her life back.
It is a Sunday morning, the only day she looks forward to with a purpose; Homer Barron will be in town, and together they will march down the streets with her head high, her pride restored. She lazily turns on her back, stares at the ceiling above, and her eyes lock on the water-mark ring that has been there for as long as she could remember, now seeming to get darker and damper each day, as if in tune with her own aging. She tosses the ominous image from her mind and turns over to stare through the window, and immediately hides her eyes from the piercing rays of the sun seeping through cracks in the curtains. Cracks in the curtains- she thinks about it, and suddenly a revelation hits her numb mind; it was time her love was fully revealed to her. In one swift motion, she flings out of bed, crosses the room in purposeful strides and sets back the curtains fully. The sun's rays hit her face in their full glory, and warmly caress away the sorrows of many years of waiting for her man.
She stares out through the window, and out of habit, begins to count the bees buzzing over the garden flowers. At thirty three she gives up, as she does always, unwilling to utter her own age, which had become an embarrassment even behind the closed doors of her lonely house. If dad was alive, she thinks, and the town's pauper came to ask for my hand in marriage, not even his blood-chilling glare would stop me from running away with the man….better that way than being thirty three and single!
Her sulking is interrupted by a pair of dragonflies that lash against the window, the female trying to get away from an apparently amorous male that couldn't give up. The force of hitting the window's transparent glass sends the two lovers to the ground, but the male recovers first and mounts the female, now whimpering submissively, with a kind of impatience and aggressiveness that sends tingling sensations all over her body. That is how men are supposed to be; impatient and aggressive in courtship, not the cowardly excuses of men who fled the moment her father glared at them, their tails cold and shrunk between their legs.
"Tobe!" she shouts, and the Negro man appears at the door like an aut...