Summer at its best, she thought for herself. She was sitting on her small balcony, legs stretched on the chipped wooden floor. The watering can at her feet reminded her that her newly bloomed pansies needed a little attention, but it could wait a bit.
The day was warm, but not particularly hot. It was cloudy, with bits and spots of baby blue skies here and there… Nothing special enough to write in a journal, if she had held one, that is.
She didn’t have anything on her schedule. No one to meet, nothing to do.
At that precise moment, she didn’t expect anything more out of life.
The breeze on her bare skin, the scent of a nearby neighbour cooking something on the BBQ, the giggling of a couple of children playing innocently in the backstreet… She wished it could always suffice to content her.
She knew she would soon start to want, wish, hope for things again. Maybe it was one of life’s way to nourrish one’s ambitions. Why would she work to go forward if there was nothing to walk towards to…
But in the meanwhile, she threw her head back, empty of any envy, and just savored the slowly dying afternoon.
Keeping her fears and worries for later…