The Afternoon

The sun leans heavy against the sky, stretching shadows across the quiet street. A cat blinks slowly on a windowsill, the world moving too gently to disturb. Somewhere, a child laughs, a sound carried by the warm breeze, then fades into the stillness like a ripple in a forgotten pond. The scent of cut grass lingers, mixing with the distant murmur of voices, fragments of stories never fully heard, drifting between open windows. Time softens in the afternoon, folding itself into light and air, waiting for evening to arrive.