Sunday

She believes, the sun is shining today just for her. She is walking around town with a taste of raspberries in her mouth. In fact, she hasn't left her house in days. There is no inside and outside to her house, so she goes from one sunlit room to another, greeting her guests who are always there on Sundays, and treating them to fermented grape juice and finger-sandwiches. Her cheeks are freckled and her nose is slightly red. She entertains with puzzles and poetry: "To get to Sacramento? Go up and then down. You'll meet mice who are gently tailored and whiskered." Let's have music, she decides, and immediately the bells start chiming. Her guests jingle coins in their pockets and tapdance around her. Raspberry seeds are stuck between her teeth, and she has more guests that she can count.