Grace Wood
I make pretty pictures appear on the walls, or windows, whatever is available. It is a little more than that, but that's the gist of it.
"Finally...," Grace sighed, opening the large, ornate door to the school, "on home ground." It seemed quiet, strange considering how many pupils were there. Grace relished in that for a moment, heading into the kitchen, filling the kettle and coffee maker, in case anyone else wanted one.
Her day had been a complete, utter, distressing mess. She tried holding her tongue, distaste for what Officer Dean was telling her. The fact he dared to ask her to lie, put an innocent man behind bars? Grace read his mind, for one minute, one she regretted immediately.
"Seventh case, just lie and this will all be over with. I hate having to smile at you, pretend everything's rainbows and unicorns. It isn't, sweetheart. Get on with it."
She stood, refusing the request and left, abandoning her work, letting everyone there down, Professor X down, her Father down.
Was she letting the Police down? They had asked her to lie, and for the seventh time? Woman was sure she swallowed bile down with her tea after she got into the taxi to go back to the school. This hurt, stung, radiating throughout body, fingers tingling, eyes twitchy, nails drumming on kitchen worktop.
She didn't want to be alone, she yearned for the chaotic jabber of her students, their cheeky words flowing freely in the air, making her chuckle when she knew she shouldn't. They were wary after being dusted, taking to their rooms, stress levels high. Grace felt waves, sludge of the vile stuff emanating off of them. She couldn't bare her soul to them, they were going through enough. Even if someone did join her, and talked about the weather, darkening clouds blotting pristine blue sky, ink splashing over immaculate canvas?
That was better than what was going on in her head.
Grace Wood
I make pretty pictures appear on the walls, or windows, whatever is available. It is a little more than that, but that's the gist of it.
"Actually...," Grace headed to her room, dumping bags in the bed, "I could do with a shower..." Woman felt disgusting, skin crawling, thoughts splattering themselves across the walls, photo's reflections on the carpet, woman forgetting to shut her door.
Grace Wood
I make pretty pictures appear on the walls, or windows, whatever is available. It is a little more than that, but that's the gist of it.
After shutting her door, Grace took a long shower, clothes thrown into wash basket, letting her Dad know she was okay, she would be alright, though she could do with a drink.
Give it was eleven in the morning, that option was out. She opted for a floaty white Summer dress, tiny yellow flowers stitched into it, simple brown sandals and sun hat completing the look.
The gardens look beautiful today. Fresh air does clear my head.
Heading downstairs, woman grabbed a flask, making some chamomile tea, soothe frayed nerves.
Grace Wood
I make pretty pictures appear on the walls, or windows, whatever is available. It is a little more than that, but that's the gist of it.
Light winds blew through woman's hair, surrounded by green, grass, foliage, plants soothing, nature beautiful. She headed in random direction, anxiety melting away, temperature perfect.