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The breath builds slowly; starting in the depths of her diaphragm it drags the cool, dry air tickling down her throat, her rib cage unfolding to allow the satisfaction of her lungs. Her lips ease open with a sigh as the now warm air dances gently over them. The sun on her eyelids is just the right side of uncomfortable and reveals complexities of fragile capillary structures, like erased lines, on which she can't focus. The heat lies softly on the rest of her flushed skin save where the occasional breeze has raised sensitive doodles of goose bumps that shiver at the contact.

Her hair tickles the delicate skin between her fingers with waves that flow the length of her arm as she shakes it free of its clip. This distraction allows her head to fall so her right cheek brushes the same grass scratching her soft knee pit. The exposed skin of her neck is taut. The bead of sweat that has been forming under her collarbone is displaced and rolls idly down her chest- its meandering route chosen by the downy hair of her body- disappearing below the top of her dress. The moist trail it leaves feels cold in a way that penetrates below the skin and raises her hand to it almost without her noticing and as it makes insouciant circles on the prickled skin, she opens her eyes a little.

She cannot see past the gauze of her eye lashes which tangle and catch with the sudden friction. Then her vision supernovas and remnants of the star burn paths that scar the green haze of grass and the vacuum of her blinks. The wind that trails lazily over her legs and pulls the scratchy cotton of her dress over her thighs in a way that tingles and stings stirs the grass, releasing its sticky sweet perfume. She closes her eyes against reality to be absorbed into its world of carefree afternoons and sunscreen. She is lost to the fantasy.