Daily story, May 8, 2025

It was a still day, and there were waves in the grass. I had invented a hundred explanations for it. I had worked out how there could be a breeze at ground level and nowhere else. I had imagined helicopters about to land. I had gazed out at it for so long I began to think the waves were in my head, an optical illusion or the beginning of a migraine. I think if the grass had only been still, I could have borne staying inside.