So this is what it feels like to be cherished?

Now that I rambled on in a ridiculous fashion last night, here are a few “microdosing” entries . . .

Brightness – 50 words (aka 50 mg)

The sun shone with a brightness that somehow felt foreign, after two weeks of nearly constant rain and dreary clouds. I used to say I like “weather,” after growing up in sunny California. But by day six, I’d had my fill. The sun’s warmth renews me in new ways now.

Fear – 100 words (aka 100 mg)

On a Sunday morning four years ago, I woke up to a house filled with tall stacks of paper. They were piled high and filled every crack and crevice, leaving only room to tiptoe through the mess. As anyone would, I read some of the papers. They were memories of the bad things. Sometimes, when I ache for fresh air and open a window, they swirl around the room and a few float out the window, to the lawn below. Someone said I should get rid of them. But I fear what I don’t know, more than what I know.

Hearth – 80 words (aka 80 mg)

I walked in the house – chilled to the bone. The air, already cold, became frigid once the wind picked up and the rain began to fall. I dumped the grocery bags and my work bag on the floor. “You look like a drowned rat,” he said. Before replying sarcastically, I saw a fire glowing bright in the fireplace across the room. Just in front of the hearth, my love had set up a picnic for us. He smiled brightly. So, this is what it feels like to be cherished, I thought. Even when I look like a drowned rat.

(This story just became 99 words because this is how I want it to end. And it’s my blog and I make the rules.)