dawn

The heavy July breeze seemed to ooze rather than waft. Her skin felt sticky and gritty as she lifted her forearm to keep the sweat from stinging her already tear-burned eyes. The bouquet of wild flowers lay wilted and sad on her muddied lap. The fool. The poor romantic fool. She knew when he came calling that he was of the mind to marry. He had sprang up the muddy path barely touching the ground. He did however touch the ground heavily after he asked her to present her sister with the flowers and his intent.