The day had passed from gloomy to sunny. She liked gloomy better, but knew not why. Come to think of it, she thought, she had always liked rain better than sunshine.
One of the symptoms of melancholia, so it seems. Untreatable, maybe. But certainly she was not one who will delight in it. There was another part of her that was a relentless optimist. And sunshine is its prime symbol.
As she pulled herself away from her gazing (she had other things to do), she recalled last night. It was a very boring one. Yet she still wanted it to continue.
Today was a day she did not want to dwell in. Yet it’s not like you can stop it. She fatalistically resigned. Yes, there was nothing you can do.
“Maybe…” Sarah whispered. Why did she say it? She did not herself know; maybe ”maybe” sounded nice. Perhaps it was suitable. Something made her say it.
What did? She did not know. Maybe she said it because it sounded nice. If so, then “niceness” made her say it. How dare it force her! She chuckled. I’ve got things to do.
What things? Homework. Lovely. Really. She sat down. Oh wait, I need to get my books. She got up, and took them. Then she sat down again.
Two hours later, Sarah was eating her lunch. She did not like lunch, yet she did not want it to end. No, the day must not continue. But continue it did.
Afternoon. The sun showed no remorse. She was untouchable, however. Sitting safely in her room. With the aircond. And the fan. No that’s cheating. Face the fact.
She got out of her house. She had to breathe. To calm down. The sun wasn’t nice. But she wished it would shine all day. Enough with wishing. It’s evening. I’ve got to take a bath.
What’s with bathing? She relished it. Run down the clock, run down the day. Yep. Waste your time on the conditioner. Yes, and where’s that useless apricot scrub? There it is. Lovely.
Time to go. Not for me. Mum says so. I got to go. Darn. Get out, get dressed. Who cares about what dress? No…this one is too fluffy. No, too tacky. Who gave this abomination to me? Did I buy it?
Time to go. Urgency forces Sarah’s choice. She puts on a dress, and she’s ready to go. No time to think about it. She must be ready.
Here we are! Have fun, and good luck! Mum says. I wish. Sarah stepped into the hall. She found brief solace in her friends, cheering her on. No, their cheers were useless. It was all up to her.
Onto the podium. In front of the people. Then, Sarah smiles. Yes, she’s a lovely woman. It would be a sin not to forgive her. But wait, there’s no need. She is wonderful. Excellent!
Sarah gets off the podium. They’re clapping. She beams not because of the claps. I’ve done well, Sarah thought. The day ends. It is inevitable.