(no subject)
Lynette was dreaming again. Head fallen sideways against the rec room couch cushion, legs tucked up underneath her and a magazine just about slipping from her hands: if you were near enough you would have seen her mouth move and her brow furrow just a little with the unconscious reflexes of the lightly asleep.
She woke, and didn't remember anything.
Standing up, she padded over to the bookshelf and replaced the magazine. The jukebox changed from something soothing and classical to a Bob Dylan song, and she smiled. Lynette couldn't have told you herself, but two months on the island had changed her. She moved with a looser gait, longer hair tied back in a low ponytail, light jacket slipping off one tanned shoulder as she reached up to the top of the bookshelf. She seemed to have made friends with it in recent times; it was giving her enough books to form quite a healthy pile in her hut, most of them of relatively decent quality. She'd had a bit of a disagreement with it during the week it would only give her Paulo Coelho, though.
'May your heart always be joyful, may your song always be sung,' she hummed, slipping her sandals back on and heading for the kitchen. It was nearly time for Sunday tea.
'And may you stay forever young, forever young...'
Desperate Hutwife returns after a certain leave of absence! she's in a fantastic mood and feels about fifteen years younger than usual. lyrics are Forever Young by Dylan. oh yes.
She woke, and didn't remember anything.
Standing up, she padded over to the bookshelf and replaced the magazine. The jukebox changed from something soothing and classical to a Bob Dylan song, and she smiled. Lynette couldn't have told you herself, but two months on the island had changed her. She moved with a looser gait, longer hair tied back in a low ponytail, light jacket slipping off one tanned shoulder as she reached up to the top of the bookshelf. She seemed to have made friends with it in recent times; it was giving her enough books to form quite a healthy pile in her hut, most of them of relatively decent quality. She'd had a bit of a disagreement with it during the week it would only give her Paulo Coelho, though.
'May your heart always be joyful, may your song always be sung,' she hummed, slipping her sandals back on and heading for the kitchen. It was nearly time for Sunday tea.
'And may you stay forever young, forever young...'
Desperate Hutwife returns after a certain leave of absence! she's in a fantastic mood and feels about fifteen years younger than usual. lyrics are Forever Young by Dylan. oh yes.