Saturday Sun

Ella and Louis float through the emptiness of a clean, light room. On the north balcony a row of white shirts and bedsheets drift in the breeze, while the west window looks out over the valley-ravine, offering a myth of isolation and perfect stillness. The bathtub sparkles white and smells of lemon soap, while in the next room the two beds are neatly made, their blankets brushing the newly-swept floor. This white space is mine, and this Saturday calm as well. Tuesday brings exams, and the future beyond comes unknown and unbidden, but for this moment I am mistress of a tiny corner of the world and I will welcome that security and settle in to write.