I sat under the dying tree, humming a merry ditty to myself. The wind whistled past my ears, blowing some hair into my face. I never felt like this before. I loved it. The peace, the quiet, the serenity. The painted orange sky, mottled with pink clouds as the sun set on the horizon. The green grass, tickling my toes. I ran my hand along the edge of the book in my hands. I read the title in my head. My Life. I opened it up, expecting naught but beauty.
Then my teacher called my name and I snapped back to my bleak classroom.
