The cottage hid behind the treeline.
A firefly circled my bottle of Stella.
It was good to breathe without the mask.
It was good to escape the heat and strange faces of the desert city.
The lethargy of summer in my knees,
The zoom from the cars zipping down the freeway fading with the day.
The curry porridge was bubbling in the slow cooker,
The kids won’t eat it. That’s ok. I will.
I am only hungry at night.
Hour 9, Prompt 9