The whirr of the fan mingles with the breeze from the open window. A hot day has turned into a cooler afternoon, with dark clouds at the horizon. the green of the leaves gently moves to and fro, quite beautiful against the grey backdrop. She sits in her bed, gazing out, wearing her favourite sweater. It’s summer, and she hasn’t had a chance to wear it for a while, but the combined effort of the breeze and the fan renders the room cool enough for layers. She sniffs the collar and smiles at the vanilla scent. It carries so many memories. Memories of sunshine, friends and love. She has sunshine and love, but misses her friends. And it’s only been two months.
She stretches. Long hours spent in front of the laptop has made her right arm ache. It’s fiddly work, using only a mouse pad. She really should have brought out the mouse. Her fingers pinch her wrist, working their way up to the elbow, massaging flesh and joints, trying to squeeze the pain away. Up to the shoulder, and then the neck. She rolls her head around and stretches again. Slightly better.
A pair of sea gulls dance outside, among the leaves, against the cloudy sky. They whirl together, chase each other, yes they really do dance. She longingly looks at them, wishing she were closer to the sea. It is quite strange how comfortable they are, so far away from a shore. Their shrieks bring forth more memories, the sound of waves and wind, hot sunshine, children’s laughter and the smell of sun screen. So much rain, and so few places to swim. It’s not like home.
It’s not like home, but she loves it. The houses, tall and narrow, cramped together, made of stone instead of wood. The gardens, well-tended, full of roses. The green hills, the soft skies, the reckless parking. The long drives without destination, loud music blasting, camera ready, stop at any scenic spot. English summer.