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Aftermath
When the morning of Friday bloomed in its entirety, Hera was to wake with the rich and bright rays of the sun peering from the window. It was lukewarm. Hera smiled as she clenched her fist on the ledge, looking down at the school. The trees were dancing with the morning breeze, watched by the blue horizon, cloudless, just as ecstatic and weightless as Hera’s heart. Despite the feast of nature, the rest of the school was still in their slumber, but the silence was more than enough for Hera. It was an orchestra that which her ears kept longing to hear.
Forcing herself to look away, Hera turn the light on and sat down on the bed. Five books were propped open on it, the contents highlighted and annotated. Hera was reading them when she fell asleep yesterday. It was weird and natural at the same time, as though she was meant to be a bookworm from the very beginning.
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