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Weekly Contest #356
Grass is the first thing I feel, the morning dew wetting my bare feet, the moisture sticking broken clovers and grass blades to my skin. It does not feel like my eyes are truly open, everything is fuzzy and undefined, besides the grass. I close them anyway, willing my mind to focus, lighting each sense one by one like candles. Touch, taste, sound, smell. Tall weeds catching on my nightdress, the ghost of last night’s warm, metallic dinner on my tongue, early spring wind rippling through the trees, someone’s anxious heartbeat in the distance,...
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