Cady

She was a sucker for the sunshine. The warmth and brilliance of an egg-yolk yellow sun poured across every limb of her body. Unabashed and blissfully self-unaware, Cady sprawled out in the field, closing her eyes and letting the heat seep into her pores. This escapist ritual was her catharsis of choice. The tall grass was still coarse from winter, but beneath the weedy bristles Cady noted hints of sprouting green–the first sign of spring. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so relaxed or content. She soundlessly mouthed that word as it occurred to her–'content.' Cady liked to think she lived spontaneously and impetuously. She struggled with the idea that it was senseless to live only in the moment and do whatever she pleased–that it was a somehow greedy way of living and while it may be enthralling and magical at first, the newness of spontaneity wears off and reality returns with a vengeance. Having had a week that threatened to take Cady from her usual spirited self to a soul-less shell, she returned to her blessed sunlight, revering its comfort and solace. She plucked out one of the coarse weeds to the right of her shoulder and twisted it between her pointer finger and thumb. She spent a few seconds peeling the tiny strands apart, crunching it into a tiny knot and–-losing interest in it while successfully forgetting the plague of life, she tossed it aside and rolled onto her stomach. Inhaling, she folded her arms to create a pillow. Exhaling, she let her stress catch the wind skating across her back and fell asleep watching it dance further and further from her spot in the field.