Weak springs creaked as she sunk heavily into the cushions, letting her things scatter across the remaining length of the couch. For a moment, she thought that nothing had ever given her so much relief as her head rolling back against the arm rest. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Nothing impelled her to move, not even the din of objects, specifically the contents of her purse, crashing against the wood floor.
The ottoman struggled across the wooden floor, moved unintentionally as she stretched her entire length, pushing out with her feet. “Ohhhhh” she moaned, feeling her muscles respond. He watched her from across the room, amused at how overwhelming the over stuffed chair looked around her.
Writing Challenge – Orange Tree Writing prompt from A Writer’s Path
The daily, eight a.m. escape was necessarily hurried. If we were caught in our rooms after that, grounding was inevitable, followed by an interminable lecture about respecting rules. I had perfected the process by simply packing everything I needed in a satchel before bed and upon waking, putting on just enough clothes to be street legal.