Amy parted the flower-patterned shades. Out the window, Summer is in full bloom. The sun hangs high in the sky. For Amy, it was already afternoon. For Amy, it meant nothing.
Amy gazed out of her window, still in her nightgown and kneeling on her unkempt bedsheets. She saw the city she knew in a boon of Summer high. For everyone else she could see, they were taking Summer by the hand, seemingly on another stroll in a laid back village town. Summer has truly arrived, but this matters very little for Amy. Regardless of what she feels about Summer, she still stared out of the window, seemingly in awe.
As Amy lounges in her room, the day has already long begun, and as usual, the stubborn Mr. Sun waits for no one, whether it be a pitiful soul that needs a few more minutes of shuteye or Ms. Moon, who has ironically gone to sleep. The time left in this particular Summer's day is like the sand in a sand dial, in which it will continue to flow and eventually fill the bottom compartment completely. Then, we turn it over again.
Today was a particularly hot Summer day, which was expected since it was currently Summer (duh), and Mr. Sun likes it hot. Air conditioning is a thing, and Amy didn't seem to care. She took a look at her clock, sighed for a brief moment, and moved on. Amy got off her unkempt bed and went to her bathroom, tucking a pastel-colored pillow between her arms. She's apparently grown 3 centimeters taller this year - congrats! Let's pop the champagne. This adds to the 151 centimeters she measured from last year.
Now, in the bathroom, yes. Amy stared into her rectangular-framed bathroom mirror. Longitude, not latitude. It seems that it is framed with light mahogany. I'm not sure, could be plastic. She couldn't be that rich, couldn't she? She grabbed the old hairbrush by the handle, slightly moist, and began straightening out her bob-cut. It ends an inch below her ears. She used to have long, flowing, gorgeous and hard to wash hair that almost reached her waist. Well, almost. If you don't have a rod sticking out of your pants, you wouldn't get it. I don't think the day Amy's hair reaches her waist will ever come, especially if she continues growing at this rate. What is this? She keeps the tap on while she brushes her teeth! What a waste! Hmmm... judging by her monotonous glare at the finger smudged mirror, I don't think, frankly, she would receive my opinion with particular warmth. She bashed the sleepiness out of her face with the deathly cold water flowing out of the sink tap.
She heads back to her room to change. After all, it's her nightgown's turn to go take a break. Serving your master isn't easy, having to fight the damned bed bugs that sting, sting, sting all night. Nightgowns are delicate, sensitive sleepers. They prefer cozy, warm and enclosed spaces, so she hung her on her clothes rack inside her cupboard, and began to ponder. What would Amy wear on such a fine Summer day? Was she planning to go out for a seldom stray walk or stay in the comforts of her room? Her eyes walked and wandered around her cupboard, looking for that one perfect attire.
No heavy dresses, no overcoats, no long sleeves - Its Summer, do you want to faint of a heatstroke? Well, guess what? Neither did Amy. Perhaps tight shorts and knee-length skirts are a good choice. Something light and airy to vent out the Summer heat. Amy hesitated for a second and placed neither in her hands. It looks like she's searching for something else. Amy flips through her grand clothing saga. As she grazes through the multi-colored and textured fabrics in all their shapes and sizes, her hands freeze upon one of them. Pulling out of the clothes rack and admiring it in its full white body, it turned out to be a one-piece dress. It is sleeveless, cutting off at the bust, complete with a lolita-Esque frilled skirt section bellow, just reaching the tip of her kneecaps. She reminisces about when she used to wear the dress. Those memories certainly weren't pleasant, evident by the stream of tears flowing down her cheek.
Nonetheless, she still chose to wear the dress, and I can totally understand that. It is pleasant to relive memories, going back to the times shrouded in uncertainty and light-hearted smiles. often, this backtracking is accompanied by the inevitable, zesty, bitter taste of sadness, followed by the sour taste of grief. But who said bitter gourds and lemons aren't delicious? Perhaps Amy has a different palate. Amy tossed her nightgown into the worn clothes basket by her door whilst pulling down her dress below her waist. Reflected upon the cupboards door is a petite lady, graceful and pure as the shade of lily-white on her garment. Upon closer inspection, the clothes had definitely aged. It was definitely tugging a bit more towards the body; the shade of lily-white that it used to be has become more of an egg-white hue. This doesn't come as a surprise to Amy. Time has passed, and this dress serves as a testament.
Enough with this. The time left in this faithful Summer's day is running out. Amy should act soon if she wishes to achieve the change she has always hoped for. For a very long time, Amy has hoped for something, anything, to break the unending flow of her bland, monotonous lifestyle. This unending repetition of monotony, she doesn't feel satisfied by one bit of it. If staying alive is to suffer she is bent on finding meaning and reason in it all. Today, she plans on going for a walk. There is no destination nor justification for it. Amy knew very well that for change to happen, neither was required. Her reason was simple and resolute: Without action, there cannot be change.
The keys and an open lock left astray on the living room table. A pair of sandals removed from the shoe rack. The wind blows into the house through the slight opening in a hastily closed door.
The flowers are beginning to bloom.
