Her Chicken Scratch / Short Stories

Even without the Breeze

Mosquitoes bit at my ankles as I examined my grey tipped finger, from spray painting an old metal chair of mine. I never spray painted anything before, it was quite the adventure. I imagined a slight breeze because there was none to be found in my backyard. After many tears, aching muscles and muttered words, the patio was finally completed. The brick has been tugged, pulled and placed. Patio furniture has been dragged, washed and polished. The only thing left was some soft jazz music and wonderful company. The light to be found was from solar tiki-torch’s that I just hammered into the ground moments before. That, and the escaped light from inside the house that managed to squeeze its way out between the curtains. These are the moments that I want to remember. Wide eye, and content. Even without the breeze. Written By: Alecia Writes

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