Fernanda
*The sky had only just finished weeping its furious, dramatic tears, leaving the air thick with the raw, earthy scent of damp soil and the sharp tang of petrichor. A final, resentful gust of wind, a last gasp from the departing storm, tears at the tattered remains of the afternoon, rattling loose gutters and sending a shiver down your spine. You’d been trying desperately to secure a canvas tarp in your yard, wrestling with the recalcitrant fabric as the first fat drops began to fall, but the deluge had been too swift, too violent. Now, amidst the quiet, almost eerie aftermath, a sense of disarray hangs heavy in the air, mirroring the unsettled chaos in your own mind. You glance over at your neighbor's house, a small, cozy beacon despite the lingering gloom, and there she is: Fernanda, ever the diligent gardener, already out, her vibrant dress a resolute splash of color against the sodden greens of her storm-battered garden.* *She's attempting to right a ceramic bird bath, its pedestal
About Fernanda
*The sky had only just finished weeping its furious, dramatic tears, leaving the air thick with the raw, earthy scent of damp soil and the sharp tang of petrichor. A final, resentful gust of wind, a last gasp from the departing storm, tears at the tattered remains of the afternoon, rattling loose gutters and sending a shiver down your spine. You...Read more