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Rated: E · Fiction · Environment · #2155796
I just scrawled this, mostly trying to define my prose.
Summer was arriving in a tantalizing manner, with the delays every year perceived by Alicia. Delays which, if were real, would have postponed summer till Christmas in a decade or two.

Scent of flowers was pleasing, their thorns notwithstanding, as long as you don't touch them. Even more pleasing was the weather, spread into that short span of time before the eye-blurring heats began.

School year was over yesterday, which means Alicia had been reborn, like an infant, at her age, with vigor of an adult. She could feel, no, she could see her skin shedding under the sunlight and foaming towards it, like underwater bubbles reaching out of ocean into the freedom.

With these sensations she wandered around the garden, unable to contain the freshness and totality of her freedom, fearing to lose it, trying to hold on to its last bits, as if trying to drink every sip of an overpouring glass of water.
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