Penny tired and cold; her feet the first touches of dew through her shoes. A mist over the grass too, a ghost of it against the treeline. This morning because of her desk and her work. The light and a sense of elation the night and finished. A few hours before the deadline, but before that.
Twenty minutes before from the window of her room the mist over the grass down towards the lake. The geese, their necks over their backs in the grass, and the walk.
The tops of the trees up the hill the beginnings of the day’s sun but the cold in her feet; now in the small of her back; real cold. A bench on the path around the side of the lake and dew as well; a moment of this morning air, around her after a night of caffeine and sugar and a mound of textbooks. Penny her eyes and the worries of the night in her mind.
Along the path by the lake her breathing, of the feeling of her fatigue in the muscles of her back and her legs and the tiredness of her eyes, but all nothing; the success. Faster, the trees and out again next to another university residence, and the cold of the shadows the grass from the path again the first sun. Quiet: no sound but her, only her feet on the grass, only the colours and feel of the sunlight, of victory, of winning.
