You stumble out of bed, surprised at and unused to the low height of the bed frame. Disoriented, you glance around before remembering that you are not at home, that you are actually on a weekend retreat to the woods so you can "actually relax, for once", according to your roommate — who has (unfairly!) accused you of being a workaholic.
Absolute blasphemy.
You are not a workaholic, you just really, really love your work, enough that you'll stay up til ungodly hours of the night for it...okay, maybe you are a workaholic. Just a bit.
But you push those thoughts away. It's relaxing time, after all.
Yawning as you leave your bedroom, a little bit dazed because wow, is this what a good night's rest feels like?, you enter the main area of the cabin. You mean to head for the small kitchenette, but a flurry of white outside the floor-to-ceiling windows catches your eye.
The trees outside are heavily dusted in white as snowflakes come pouring down from the steel-gray sky, coating the slanted ground beneath the cabin in a thick blanket. From your vantage point, high up on the mountainside, an expanse of snow-dappled trees stretches all the way down, out of sight. Content to watch for a few minutes before actually doing anything, you wander over to the windows, where soft cushions line the ground. The small woodstove centered before the window radiates pleasant heat. A little bit of cool air wafts from the windows' cold glass, and you unconsciously lean towards the woodstove to absorb its comforting warmth.
The snow dances in mesmerizing patterns as it falls, and your eyelids start to droop again, but you're startled awake by the grumbling of your stomach.
Slowly, you rise to your feet once more, padding across the wooden floor in your socks until you reach the kitchen cabinets.
You feel... better than you have in a long time, actually. You didn't even realize how tired and stressed you were until it was abruptly yanked away from you.
You might even be a little grateful to your roommate for making you see that.
But for now, all you want to think about is breakfast.
YOU ARE READING
simple moments: a collection
Randoma collection of short scenes, probably won't have actual plot can be considered prose poetry, maybe flash fiction in some cases will probably all be in second person, if you don't like reading second person pov this is probably not for you this is p...
