Fingers press against the keys feverously as the black ink pounded against the white paper. The pounding keys placed the story upon the page. The woman looked up to break her trance on the page starting to be covered in black letters to out the window. The spring daisies were blooming and were starting to act like a curtain as they sprung up from the window planter. The lace curtain that allowed her privacy and femininity fell delicately against the window pane, moving slightly in the calm breeze. The pattern called “Daisy” seemed so fitting as the ivory fabric moved with the flowers. The sun was starting to set in the evening but beams still broke through the panes and landed on the oak desk she was working on. This was her oasis. Her simple get away just to be creative. She did not have much furniture inside of the cottage. A small twin bed, an old blue couch she found at a garage sale and her wonderful solid oak desk. There was a small wood burning stove, original to the cottage she suspected that she cooked simple meals on if she was out here for days. The scent of fresh grass blew in through the window playing with the loose hair of her bun and filled her nostrils. With the heat of the evening sun upon them her mind was reeling in the luxury of her quiet time. Her head bent to stretch her neck and her hands went up above her head straining her back. Knuckles cracked as her fingers returned to their place upon the keys, continue to work out her story in the peace she only truly found here.
Small story of the day. Felt moved by the nice weather of Seattle today.