Bronte Fauchon

Promises

I lay on my stomach, the grass tickling the skin in the gap where my jumper didn’t quite meet the waist of my jeans, just below my belly button. The sun warmed the small of my back, despite the cool Autumn air. The light danced as the wind played in the leaves of the small tree beside me. I felt it pass along my back, challenging the warmth of the sun. The breeze won for a moment. I felt the hairs on my back stand on end.