Saturday morning




(picture via)

The morning was full of light. The sun had shouted “here I come!” and the clouds, scared, had run away. “See how the sun shines brightly in the city on the streets “, like the Electric Light Orchestra once sang.

The striped dress hanging on her closet was ready to be flaunted. Her red nails topped her ready-for-rings fingers. Her mood was bright. She sang random songs in the shower. A Cher song. An Arctic Monkeys song. And a The Turtles one, too.

She was in the mood of wearing sneakers, of grabbing a bag, a book and her phone and losing herself through the sun soaked city streets. She’ll may even drink a cappucino at a lovely terrace she had seen once, next to a family of tourists and a couple of lovers sharing a coffee the morning after. She would observe dog owners walking their pets in the sunlight, homeless guys asking for money and groups of girlfriends who were going shopping. She would read her book. She would think of love, of life and of how tiny was the bug that had just stopped by her table. She would think of the birds flying, the music playing round the corner and she would think of the sky. Of how blue the sky was that Saturday morning.

And she would sip her cappucino and she would feel content with her life.


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