Sunday in the suburbs

She squints through the afternoon sunlight to see the neighbor's cat jumping from one roof to another. The slow-rolling sound of a tricycle tire grinding against the pavement is the only thing that disturbs the stillness of the cul de sac. A light breeze runs through the area, rustling leaves and breathing life into the moment. Her chest raises as her lungs fill with air to then explosively exhale... She lays back down, her eyes remaining on the pink clouds. Monday might not be that far off, yet it still is Sunday in the suburbs... A Sunday she'll hold on to for as long as the clouds continue their pinkish voyage and the sun keeps her company.