After yesterday's deluge, I feel waterlogged and beaten down, like a newborn plant, sprouting fresh from thawing earth, that just got the shit kicked out of it by a storm.
So I have to psyche myself up to go outside, despite everyone coming in from lunch saying how glorious and mild it is outside.
When I finally do make it out, it is everything I'd been told, and I practically float through the sunshine, soaking in light and air that seems to be breathing me, rather than the other way around.
The smokers in the courtyard eye my smiling visage warily, but they're out there for the same reason I am, reveling in a beautiful day, sucking in smoke with gusto, flicking their butts to the pavement with a little extra verve, a little more pep.
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