Trinette Faint Productions

Can’t think of anything better than exercising my literary muscles on a Saturday afternoon.   For this story and more visit www.talltwrites.blogspot.com.

This day, her day.

She had been waiting for this day.

Her Saturday had finally arrived after two very long weeks. She had gone to the Rockies to pay respects to her once love, claimed by a majestic Colorado mountain, and she’d said good bye to her visiting family members who’d arrived after her return.

After walking the dog on this chilly Saturday, her Saturday, and enjoying a waffle while listening to the news, she found her way back to bed. The stack of expired periodicals on her nightstand called to her and she heeded. The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, The Atlantic, she read them all, aided by the comforts of fluffy pillows and vast natural light. She then turned her attention to a novel.

Hours passed and the sun shifted. The dog slept. She ate a late lunch and contemplated an activity. This was the one thing she hated about living in New York, always feeling she needed to be out doing something, but she did not want to be a part of the city’s orbit. Not today. Not on her Saturday. She wanted to simply be and soon lost herself in the pages of her novel again before slumbering back to sleep, joining the dog in its peaceful state.