100 words (more or less), writing

Stolen Moments

A grey day, soft around the edges. Calm. The air flirts with the trees, their leaves shimmering and rustling and shaking. I open the windows and the breeze comes fluttering inside, bringing liveliness to sleepy, stuffy rooms.

Insects drone and the distant sound of a train horn blows and lawn mowers hum. 

The sun is hazy behind the clouds, a diffuse brightness painting everything in subtle, silvery strokes. 

I sink down onto cushions with an old, familiar book and settle into the comfort of a few stolen moments.

Breathe. Breathe in deep and slow and fill my lungs with sky.