She stood there, almost still in the empty kitchen. She was watching the window and the sunlight that filtered through the screen on the outside of the decades old glass.
She didn't mind the emptiness of the house, she liked it a lot as a mater of fact. So she stood there, in the very center of the tiled kitchen, in her neon pink socked feet and her tied back hair, and she sipped the orange juice straight from the carton that she had found in the fridge.
From what she saw from the safe inside-ness of her light wooded and light tiled kitchen the day was nice. That didn't mean she wanted to go out, and yet she wasn't sure if she wanted to stay in.
Through an open window in the room connected to the kitchen wafted the sweet smell of newly cut grass and afternoon. It was early enough in the year to open the windows but not early enough to turn off the air conditioning.
From in the dining room the next room over a breeze that was pushed by the spinning ceiling fan found its way towards the girl, who calmly drank her orange juice, and lightly lifted up the short, thin curls on that escaped from her hair tie.
She didn't move except to wiggle her socked toes a bit and breathe in the warm pre-summer air. It was only April and yet summer seemed to already be drifting though the cracks of suburban Florida and into the orange juice girl's house.
The orange juice girl, sighed and put the carton on the counter to her left. She found the cap and twisted it back on, ceasing her drinking of her state's official drink. She jumped up onto the counter next to the now sealed carton and looked, once more, out the window. She sat on the cool counter top tiles and swung her feet out, careful not to hit her heals onto the cabinets to hard.
Everything was out the window, the world was outside the window.
The no longer orange juice drinking girl sighed and slipped off the counter lightly. She looked longing out of the window once more and then left the kitchen.
On her way out, she put away the orange juice.
