This is one of my own fiction pieces, the first I've posted. I'm hoping to do more posts like this with time.
Yesterday, she handed in her notice. The next day she considered jacking in school too - how many times did she need to be told she'd never make it far with only Art under her belt?
"I never wear belts." Was her first thought when her mother began to preach.
After constructing a tower of pancakes - closely resembling that leaning one in Pisa - she drenched them in jam, apricot; the only one she thought a good home needed. If finishing her pancakes made her two hours late for school then hell, she'd be two hours late. In fact, Margo considered not going at all. It was only Art, right?
Opening the back door, juice in hand, she perched on the back door step and it wasn't long before Franco was by her side - a stubborn and fickle cat at best. He lovingly pushed his head into her arm, instinctively Margot complied with a tickle on the chin.
She necked the last of her juice, hoping to find a little solidarity at the bottom of her mug. Admiring the sky, she thought about how lately she hadn't been sure if she had enough focus to control her passion, but it wasn't long before the rolling clouds captured her remaining attention.
What she was sure of was that she'd fallen in loving with waking up late and devouring a stack of pancakes. Even surer was the idea that she would bring her chalk set outside where the broken roof slates that scattered the garden would be her canvas.
Alas, with a pancake filled stomach, a miserable cat, and several hours of art her Thursday was nothing but faultless.