The gentle breeze swept the leaves up in a flurry likely unimpressive to anyone not paying any mind to its profound beauty. Yet they continued to dance around his feet whimsically and without reservation as she nuzzled her shoulder a little more snuggly into his lap. Her legs were outstretched – half of her tucked away cosily, the other half soaked up the warm summer sun. It was a picture-perfect moment – the same thought he had been rolling around his head for the past five minutes.
“Whimsical. Definitely whimsical.” he thought to himself as he mulled for the correct description of the fallen leaves.
As the day inched forward, moments at a time, and with her blissfully unaware of the cogs in turn, he had by now already reconstructed the scene to a great degree of detail via his internal monologue. Everything was perfect. His story was complete. Now it was simply to create it.
“The gentle breeze swept the leaves up in a flurry likely unimpressive to anyone not paying any mind to its profound beauty.”
His fingers etched his words onto his digital slate. She watched television; the moment was gone. Yet he continued to describe it – the arch of the willow reminiscent of her quiet beauty as she rested upon his comfort, he likened the rise and fall of her chest to the ebb and flow of the ocean, and the wind sang songs of her eternity beauty. “I’m running a bath. You joining?” It was late already. He dismissed her casually, missing even with his peripheral view the naked beauty standing behind him, a mere impulse away. She exited the scene, leaving our hero to continue the story of the most wonderfully spent afternoon with the most beautiful girl in the world.