The soft light illuminates the bedroom. She lounges relaxed in her bed,the ceiling fan overhead providing a rush of air,which blows lightly through her hair.
She reclines back further on to her pillows. The steady tapping of the keys,as she types away,thinking of the next words to write.
She perches her reading glasses to the tip of her nose,and raises her eyebrows at the minute flashes of thought that race through her head. It had always been a dream of hers,to write..and here she is now doing what she loves.
What interested her in this time consuming endeavor,you ask? Years of writing in notebooks to pass the time. It was a release to get those thoughts out, even if the only one who understood that was her. She would pick it up after feeling like no one heard her voice inside,which always longed for understanding.
“A quiet day indeed”,she thought,as she remembered the events of the day. Overall,it was one of those days,that didn’t leave her anxious for anything, nor was she the least bit lonely or bored.
Quite a day indeed!