Choppy music echoes from upstairs, and a dog sighs and rolls over, resting his back in the curve of my foot.
There's sunlight peeking through the clouds, and it spills golden shapes over the carpet, slipping through my fingers before vanishing behind the trees. A vacuum roars in the kitchen and voices clamour from somewhere near; underneath it all is the very faint, almost-not sound of my computer keys.
The dog yawns and sits up, casting a jealous glance towards the lap-space occupied by the computer. Then he wriggles in closer and drops back down, aligning himself with my outstretched leg. After a minute, he reaches out, dropping his chin onto my leg with a sigh.
Sundays are nice. The lazy atmosphere seems infused into everything; minutes tick slowly by and sun filters through my eyelashes and I turn pages, my "to-read" stack shrinking. Everything is slow and peaceful on Sundays, like a pause in-between last week and next.
What do your Sundays look like?
...reading Pride and Prejudice
...pretending that tomorrow isn't Monday
...listening. noticing everyday noise for the first time - trying to dissect each layer and finding it fascinating