It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, the kind of day made for slowing down. The air was crisp but warm, a perfect fall day with leaves crunching softly underfoot and a golden light that seemed to hang in the air. Eli, lounging on his back porch, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
A mug of tea rested beside him on the small wooden table, steam rising in soft spirals. He could feel the weight of the week lifting off his shoulders with each passing moment. No deadlines. No expectations. Just stillness.
The distant sound of a lawnmower buzzed faintly, a neighbor finishing some weekend chore. But here, in his small slice of the world, everything was calm. A gentle breeze rustled the branches of the oak tree overhead, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and pine. Eli’s mind drifted, thoughts coming and going like the breeze itself—light, without urgency.