Faded Florals

She found herself longing for a hazy summer afternoon- a kind of ethereal, sweet, warm couple of hours that don't actually happen in real life. She would spend it lazing on a checked blanket under a tree, with a good book, and some cold lemonade. She would be wearing old blue jeans with bare feet, and a navy-blue vintage blouse, with tiny white polka-dots on it. Wait - strike that, not navy-blue, that's not summery enough. How about a light pink blouse, with a faded floral print, tucked in. No, untucked is more casual. And now for her hair...it would be her perfect, yet ever unachievable hairstyle - glossy, healthy, and let's go with a warm, honey blonde. With every turn of her head, the mottled sun streaming through the leaves would shine perfectly off of her hair and skin.

She would be reading a book, but would soon find it uninteresting - those obscure authors can get so wordy. She would look around, there would have to be other people there, not too close, but just enough to notice her under the tree in her peace, and admire the relaxing, casual moment this beautiful young woman was enjoying. And of course she would pull out her ipod and self-portrait the moment, so that she would never forget it, never forget how she was able to truly enjoy this ideal afternoon, lounging fashionably under a tree. But soon she would realize that no one was actually noticing her, and that the breeze was picking up, and she would shiver as the sun would go behind a cloud. A slight ache in her back would soon get so annoying that it would force her to stand. Glancing down at her untanned, white arms, the empty plastic cup of over-priced, sugary lemonade, she would then check the time. Damn. She should have gotten out of here before rush hour. Now it's gonna take her 40 minutes to get home.