It's like a book elegantly bound, but in a language that you can't read
Elegantly Bound: The StoryCelia was tired. The spring air was no longer fresh to her; it felt as heavy and oppressive as the heat of summer. Everything around her was annoying and offered her little joy: the birds were too loud, the buzzing of the bees around the flowers too constant. Not even out in the warmth of the day could she hope to find solace from her ennui.Elegantly Bound: The Story by Aleatoire09
She sighed and picked her tea cup up from its saucer, idly swirling the liquid left in it and watching its movement with languid eyes. The dregs of green tea flitted from one end of the bottom to the other as she made slow, controlled motions with her wrist to rotate them around. The sun pierced straight through the drink and illuminated the white porcelain; the cup almost became transparent as she twirled it through the light.
Yes, she thought again, she was very tired. She felt as though the day were only reinforcing how slowly time was passing, and how heavy she felt from it all. Her shoulders felt weighed down, as if Atlas had passed his burden
"A good book is like a good kiss: we want to devour every minute of it, yet savour it and never want it to end."