“Oh,” I breathed. Simply goregous. The day seemed to breathe the word grandeur.
The sky was a crystal, deep blue, the white clouds against it reminding me of a gestalt drawing. Negativity and positivity, like moods. Today, here in this beautiful place with just my thoughts, I was all postivity.
The grass, a beckoning shade of jade green, rustled in a slight breeze, filling me with temptation. I couldn’t resist. I dropped to the ground and lay there contentedly, full of perfection and bliss. Clouds like puffs of marshmallows drifted lazily across their perfect blue backdrop. Nothing could spoil this. The wind seemed to whisper my name: Emma…Emma…Emma…
“Emma!”
I opened my eyes. “What the—” I muttered sleepily. Julia’s big brown eyes stared back at me.
“Wake up, Emma, it’s 7:30!” she cried.
“Thanks a lot, you woke me up,” I replied crossly. “What day is it?”
“Saturday!”
So much for perfection.