Short Story I did, considering turning into full story/book idea.
Hank took a painful swallow as he woke. His swollen sore throat burned and a hoarse cough escaped. It happened every year around this time….spring fever. Hank willed himself out of bed, threw on a robe, and meandered to the kitchen.
Hank turned the burner up on the stove. As it began to heat and the coil turned red Hank placed a tea kettle on top. Hank sniffled and snuffed as he rubbed his puffy eyes. “I Hate spring,” he thought. From the fridge he took a slice of cheese, some sandwich meat, and a stalk of green onion. Placing the meat and cheese between two slices of fresh wheat bread, then cleaning the onion, Hank prepared an afternoon lunch. The tea kettle began to bubble and boil. Steam and a whistle rang from the spout. The piercing sound hit Hank’s already pounding head with furious intensity. “I hate spring,” he growled. After preparing his tea and plating lunch, Hank drudged towards the back patio.
He stepped out onto the cobblestone deck. The sun shone and beat down. Hank sat at the iron patio table and began enjoying his meal. He took in the scene around him. He looked at his cottage. It was small but cozy with vines and tendrils that seemed to climb it in a few areas. He then turned to the back garden. Hank sipped his tea. The warm liquid soothed his throat. Hank smiled as he watched a fuzzy bumblebee buzzing among a patch of yellow daisies. There was a patch of collected pollen on it’s behind. Hank chuckled at the sight. A songbird chirped a tune from a nearby tree. Hank sat back, closed his eyes and listened as his headache softened. “Maybe,” he thought “, maybe I don’t hate spring….and just maybe I’m starting to love it.”