Cassandra sank into the deep porch chair with a sigh, kicking up her flats and leaning against the arm of her chair to prop her feet on the one opposite. It was an awkward position, but not uncomfortable with the pillows she had layered on the chairs. Monday had been a real Monday this week and all she wanted was to lay back and watch as the sun slowly finished sinking over the horizon.
She'd prepped the sun room before sitting, knowing that she wouldn't want to rise again. The windows were open and through the screens she could hear the crickets and cicadas starting to make noise in the deepening evening. The storm that had blown itself out over the weekend had left behind a good breeze, pouring through one side of the room and out the other, a relief from the direct heat of the day. On the wind came the fresh scent of grass from the yard her next-door neighbor had finished mowing not half and hour ago. With the unpredictable rain, it wasn't safe to try and leave yard work until the weekend, any day that the grass managed to dry was good enough.
To her left, on the little wicker table between the chairs, the ice melting in her glass of water gave a pop and settled. The two books stacked next to it, one atop the other, spines facing outward, seemed to settle as well. Cassandra neglected to pick one up just yet, stretching out one foot, then the other, from her ankle straight through the tips of her toes. The dip of one cushion over a button cradled one heel as she crossed her other foot over it. One arm rested on the jutting arm of her chair and she let the other lay over her stomach and part of a hip as she let her neck relax fully into her pose. For a moment her eyes slid shut, but she languidly opened them once more, gazing towards the pick glow far across the fields.
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