Saturday, April 13, 2013

The window seat

Margo glared out her bedroom window. She sat stiffly perched on her window seat. This seat had been well earned. After begging her parents for years to install one, they had made an agreement with her. She had worked long and hard for that seat. Though today, she was not appreciating it as she should. At that moment she wanted to be doing anything but sitting in her room. Margo wanted to be outside, under her favorite tree, writing, reading, creating. Instead, the rain pattered fiercely on her window, like it was trying to get inside, to wrap around and strangle her. The feelings were mutual. How could it rain in the middle of the first glorious string of warm days? Summer, spring, whatever it was, rain was not welcome. Margo tried to breath deeply, she counted to one hundred, hoping she could think of something else to do, something to take her mind off of her anger. She wasn't even sure why she was so upset. During the school year, being cooped up inside her room on her window seat with a stack of books, always seemed desirable. Today, it was a tremendous burden. She swiftly scanned her room in search of a project, but came up dry. It was all she could do to continue glaring at the rain, somehow thinking, if she continued, it would miraculously subside somehow. Margo could have written inside, read inside, and created inside, but it didn't seem the same. The minutes passed, and turned into hours. she had been investigating her hands to death when she looked up to notice the rain was gone, the sun was blossoming from behind of billowing cloud as it slowly shined rays all over her yard. She jumped up off the beloved window seat, snatched up a towel, a good book, and her notepad, she glided down the stairs with agile steps, and was soon bursting through the front door and onto the walk way. Margo darted to her favorite tree, scanned the premises for bugs, than laid out her towel and sat down. She took a deep breath, taking in the luscious smell of the flowers, and just nature in general. Margo pulled out her note pad, and decided to pen a short little story, seemingly stumped she closed her eyes, to think, and clear her head. Something touched the tip of her nose, thinking it was a bug, she slapped her nose gently and her eyes remained closed. But she felt the touch again. It was gentle and wet. She simply ignored it, but it began to spread all throughout her body, little gentle, wet drops. She frowned knowingly, motionless, dreading the inevitable. Margo slowly popped her eyes open, only to reveal a soaked towel, and a partially damp self. Groaning, she stood gathered her things, trudged into the house, and flopped back up the stairs. Margo didn't bother to change into dry clothes, she dumped her things on the floor, and threw herself back down on the window seat. Sighing dramatically, she resumed her death stairs directing them again towards the infuriating rain. The minutes passed like molasses, and slowly turned into hours....

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