|This page is marked as obsolete!|
|Rating: 0.00 |
The day was slow and perfect, like daisies swaying in the breeze of the late August warmth. They sat on the couch, the fan oscillating, the cool hitting and the cool going. He sat there on the couch very still, breathing lightly; feet upon the sleeping Labrador. She lay on his side thigh, legs dripping over the end of the loveseat. They refused to move, to hot and they were tired. The sweat dripped down their faces like beads falling of a necklace on to the blue sofa. She turned and changed positions to fall asleep, finished with the day.