She woke up with sunlight on her face, the scattered rays fighting their way through the loose weave of her gauzy curtains. Blinking blearily, she turned over and snuggled back into the cozy nest of bed sheets and pillows, lashes fluttering to a close. The lazy fingers of sleep curled around her again.
Her eyes blinked open.
The wall was the same pale, faded cream it had been for the last ten years. Depending on the time of day, and time of year, the walls warmed and cooled, alternating from inviting to empty. The same it’s been day in, day out, for ten years. Today, it felt different. She felt different.
The sky was a brilliant blue, much too vibrant for a winter morning. Not a single cloud dotted the sky; they dared not mar such purity of color. She vaguely noted the birds chirping on the tree outside, before a steady gust of wind shook the leaves and birds off the branches.
Through the thin glass of her closed window, she could hear the world waking up. A car starting in the distance, its engine whining about the cold. Children chattering in high-pitched voices, on their way to school, running ahead of their parents. A dog started barking.
When did a dog move into the neighborhood?
She continued to lie on her side, unmoving, watching the wall change in the sunlight filtering in through the atmosphere, the leaves, the curtains, the air. Light shimmered and sparkled along the wall. The sunlight was trying to tell her something. She refused to listen.
Rolling to the other side of the bed, she threw off the covers and swung her feet to the ground, sitting up in one fluid movement. The light detached from the wall and followed her as she made her way to the bathroom.
I only managed 300 words for Day 5. I didn’t want to write, and was slogging my way through it. Plus there were so many other things that needed to be done, it didn’t feel like I should be wasting time on something I dreaded. I’m not sure what is going on with this; maybe I’ll develop it into a short story, maybe I’ll let it die as is.