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Matilda

Matilda sat at her blue wooden desk. The one she had refurbished from old pallets and old shelves she recycled herself. The blue was intentionally bright and bold, but worn to revel most of the stained, darker pallet wood. She looked out the window which her desk faced. The woods behind her house were illuminated by the sunlight reflecting from the snow they had gotten the night before. She lifted herself slightly off her seat, leaned forward and looked out the window down toward the ground. The outdoor furniture was lightly covered with snow in such a way it made Matilda think of sugar dusted cookies. For the most part the patio was snowless. Matilda thought of how cold the metal furniture and snow would feel pressing against her legs and back. At the very least it would feel good, even if it didn’t calm her down.