this was written... mid 2013, so pretty recent! this is more my writing style now so.. yeah.
Two pairs of shoes trample grass as they crunch toward the meadow outside of Goldenrod. The picnic basket swishes against a pair of polyester cargoes and slowly runs the hand that holds it raw, though his calloused fingers hardly register the pain. The battered palm that carries the wooden basket trails delicate digits, which clutch hopefully to the simple, fragile kite she totes.
Though there had been a number of bigger, better kites in the store that morning, Yellow had become smitten with the childish kite that had been tucked away in the corner. "Will that even fly?" Red had asked her, the underlying tone of doubt rather prevalent in his question.
Though his question had brought her uncertainty, her blind faith in the abilities of the basic toy overshadowed it.
They both take a glimpse at the sky, splashed with blue and white while a calming, cooling breeze rolls in cotton balls of water vapor on this late spring day. Upon reaching their destination, they find that the meadow is virtually empty, save for the flock of pidgey that sail through the clouds and the occasional rattata or two that peek out through the tall blades of grass nearby.
Red sets the basket down in a spot near the middle of the field, rubbing his palm out of habit. Glancing at the head of blonde in front of him, he waits until she turns around, silently asking about her approval. She nods, watching as he lays out their plaid blanket before kicking off her sandals.
A gust of wind blows, ruffling the skirt of her sundress and threatening to snatch the sunhat she wears from her head. He chuckles as Yellow bashfully holds the brim of her hat with the hand that had released the kite, keeping her skirt down with the other. Once it dies, she breathes easier, kneeling down to unravel the packaged kite.
The toy is a traditional kite, made of one stick crossed over another, being held together by a tying of twine where the two sticks meet. Covering the sticks on one side is a wide, diamond-shaped sheet of paper, a design of a plain orange magikarp printed on this sheet. At the bottom point of the kite, a string of orange ribbons attach themselves to the diamond.
She carefully unwinds some of the line from the reel, holding the kite by its crosspoint as she gets to her feet. When Red looks up from the picnic blanket he had been setting up, he chuckles, catching her at the moment she had decided to run off, preparing for flight.
Her heart races not only from the energy she exerts from the run, but also in anticipation for her little kite that could. When the gale returns, the conflicting forces toss off her sunhat and releases her ponytail to the wind, whipping stray strands around her face that had freed themselves from her hair tie.
Hesitantly, she raises her arm and begins to run faster, gradually letting go of that tiny, uniting ball of twine. For a moment, her heart drops along with the kite, but once it is caught by the wind at just the right angle, both soar. She stares up at her pride and joy; the sight is so blinding, so inspiring, that she cannot stop the tears that well up in her eyes.
It does not occur to her that Red had placed her sunhat back on her head; his presence goes unnoticed as he stands beside her, sliding his hands into his pockets and grinning up at the kite, watching the little speck of orange add itself to the ever-changing portrait of blue and white.
author's note
usual disclaimers apply.