Tiffany sat in a chair by her bedroom window. She looked out onto the city, watching the people moving about–just beyond the railed park gates, if she squinted.

All that green, and then, what other people wouldn't have been able to see if they were sat as far away as she was now: yellows, reds, blacks, browns, pinks... there were even some blues of violets, pitted just under the left-hand gate-growing between the gaps where the sunlight landed.

She'd got them all memorised. She patted her poetry book. And documented, in the only way that mattered–how happy she was when she made her first friend (she was a bit of a savant); the first time her grandma sang her to sleep that time both her parents caught the flu and didn't want to pass it on to her and her sisters; when she went to her first reading and writing class (her reading book fell in the mud on the way back from school–she was engrossed, it was fine–they were laminated for a reason); how she felt so light when her marks for reading came back, and she was on top of the world.

And now, how she felt looking out–knowing that she and her team had earned a Regionals win–

She sighed as two magpies caught her eye as they alighted on a branch... soon she'd need a brand new poetry book; that was more than a little bit fine.

And these three are done! Thank you for reading :D