Young, Young Love
The quaint picnic was held in an almost ethereal meadow. Of course, this was not enough to prevent Belle’s sweeping boredom. She lay on the blanket opening and closing her eyes to let the clouds take the shapes her mind chose. Belle rolled her head over at her mother; she was giggling with her friend who put his hand on Belle’s mother’s, which was a bit perplexing to Belle’s sapphire, shining eyes. She put her head the other direction and let her eyes dine on the fresh grass while turning blades of it in her index finger.
The shade allowed her to relax, but her frown remained as she searched the area for a branch to play with or flower to gaze at. Belle picked a cookie from their basket and nibbled at it for a few moments. A crumb collided with the wavy grass and an ant went and took it.
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