like the wedding dress she thought she'd have when we were nine, layers and layers of gauze wisping against each other and away, the clouds hover closely around the sun. ethereal but enough to create a cool shadow that stretches across the city, and the wind throws leaves and litter as trees toss their heads. my hair has curled all out of control today, falling into my face, tickling my neck. the library is cool and quiet, as libraries have a responsibility to be, and even the flourescent light seems friendly. the muted rumble of innumerable fingers on innumerable keys floats over the murmer of soft voices and the whisk of pages turned. i feel quiet and calm and happy, and will go swimming as soon as jason gets out of class and can let me into my house. unfortunate to leave my keys in California, but worse things have happened to me and airplanes, so i don't mind.