The day woke up blanketed in some sort of misty funk , groggily and reluctantly, so that everyone who met it would go around as if still in a dream. Morning never really took off, people were surprised, as they went about their work, to find out that it was nine in the afternoon and outside still felt like dawn. It sufficiently dulled productivity all of the day, as people tussled and fumbled, struggling to cope with a morning that never took off. It was as if they were still under the sheets and hadn't yet woken up and everything that seemed to be happening was in fact a dream.
Sally never got over her morning coffee; she had three just because it never felt right the first two times, it never seemed that she had departed from the frenzy of the night before. She mixed up the hours of the day - at noon it felt like midnite, at evening light it felt like it couldve been dawn. She felt mostly upside down as a result of that; and wondered what it would ever feel like to be wrung.
Sally's toes were painted red, the colour of passion as it has been said before. Her hair was a mess of ideas, a medusa of confusion, her yawn was splendid like a botch of warm strawberry tea on a cold winter's night. And her boredom was statuesque. She flipped her thoughts around, picked one and knawed it to nowhere. Repeated the same, in shuffle playmode. Her playlist had run out of fascinating repertoires, there were too many amazing things running the laps. Studied her cup of coffee, looking for some answers. Found them and drowned them instead in a stifling pinch of bitter. With a strawberry smile and a glorious smirk.
He returned from his rendezvous with the dwarves of 1979, with a nonchalant nod on the head and a coolcat smile. 'I'm back,' he said in a voice and a smirk that would make a young child scream. Sally's stomach churned in her chest and her mind ran away. In the blank that followed she counted all the things she wasn't saying, and her lips couldnt decide whether to curve into a smile. She blamed then the rainbows in her head for running her scandalous yet again, as she searched the hidden shadows for a source of light behind the thick flurry of bushes.
'yawn', was what she finally allowed her lips to do.
and a shrug, because it was what she did best.
And then it finally came to her. It was because the sun hadn't come up yet ...
and the knots in her mind were tied to it like honeybees were drawn to honey. Suddenly, everything started to make sense.
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