She set up her camp chair in the front yard, just on the edge of the shade, so her body would stay cool under nature's umbrella and her legs could effortlessly dangle in the full sunshine. Her feet slipped out of her squishy soled flip flops, her toenails recently painted a shade of coral, which started to chip in a way that makes her familiar. She's always been complimented by her imperfections. Her book came to rest on her right thigh, but there's something about sitting outside that doesn't make it conducive for her to read. Her eyes wander noticing the shape shifting clouds, comparing how the sky is pale blue off to the east, but just above her head it's a turquoise that would give the Pacific a run for it's money. She may not have the ocean, but she has the sky. The tips of the branches sway slightly, the leaves whisper and she longs to understand their language.
free write, just sit and fill up the screen, sometimes it goes a little like this.