Edith Piaf on a Sunday. Sunlight and warmth. The glistening vestiges of last week’s snow fading into the evergreens. The chilled freshness of a deep breath, eyes closed, face tipped towards the sun.
A bouquet of flowers from the smiling vendor at the local market. Streets teeming with prams, giggling children, and playful puppies. Sunlight and laughter.
Café cappuccinos in a plush chair by the window. A homemade grilled chicken salad with mandarin mustard vinaigrette. Fresh air gusting through the open windows.
A lazy afternoon on the porch with a close friend. A bowl of tea, a shared meal, and the tingle of dessert lingering on my tongue.
Perfection is today.
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