The shade from the large oak tree gave respite from the glaring brightness and heat of the midday sun; the soft fabric of the foldable chair provided the means for a moment’s rest at least; the icy-cold and extremely effervescent lemonade gave a much needed refresh to the expected thirst; and the rhythmic songs from the many birds both overhead and all around gave cause for a temporary stopping of time.
“Do you mind if I join you…” – Edith’s thoughts and tranquil meditation were interrupted by a man’s deep, yet friendly, voice – “…I don’t mean to interrupt you, but it’s very warm out here in the sun, and far too warm to go inside the caravan.”
Edith turned her head, and looked around the bank – there were plenty of trees all around, and quite a few of their shaded areas were definitely unoccupied; she lowered her dark sunglasses and looked into the depths of the cerulean eyes of the man who’d disturbed her.
“Please, feel free,” Edith pointed to where the man should sit on the grass, ensuring she was silhouetted against the brightness behind her whilst she could see him clearly; she then, nonchalantly, looked out over her right shoulder to the shimmering lights from the ripples on the lake beside her, “it is beautiful here.”
“I know,” the man replied softly, observing the gentle curves of Edith’s profile, edged by the sun’s glow, “… and magical.”
Edith looked back at this stranger whom she’d seen around the set a couple of times without really noticing him, and smiled; maybe now was the time to show that she didn’t always have the frosty movie star exterior – her thoughts once again disturbed, this time by the director yelling “Places!”
Posted for Six Sentence Stories, where the prompt word this week is ‘Rhythm’.
The Mansionic Perspective 
Would you like to leave a comment?