from evy's notebook
The air was cold and wet, as if the misty sky was kissing the ground. Trees twisted around her, thick branches stretching horizontally as if the sun could shine from any direction. She was laying on one of these branches, staring at a thick ceiling of leaves and contemplating how much simpler things felt here - no people, no responsibilities - perhaps the chaos of the world could be forgotten for this brief moment.
A scrappy notebook rested on her lap. Her pen sometimes glided across the soft paper, making tiny scrawls she could hardly even decipher. She found it comforting to write something no one would read. She found it comforting to feel the sturdy branch supporting her weight from beneath her.
Twilight flowed through the trees and over her skin. She stood and bowed to the tree that had held her, and then turned to bow to an oak tree that stood dozens of meters tall. How long have these trees been here, she wondered, and what have they seen? She neatly folded up a piece of paper in a smooth metal bowl, touched it with a match, and watched her words erupt into the most beautiful flame.