It’s best not to mess with perfection and give people more than their allotted eyes. I think I’ve learned a very harsh lesson. 🤣

p.s. thanks for 20 (really 21) followers! I honestly just made this account for fun, so it’s nice to know some people enjoy it. <3

Gravel crunches underneath her feet as she steps up the steep driveway.  Voices begin calling to her as she slides the door open, echoing in the dark, chilly morning air.  Her breath floods around her face as gloved hands pull her woolen hat further onto her head.  One hand clutching the thermos of coffee she carries, she feels her away through the now alive building, murmuring "good morning"s and "hellos" to those greeting her.  She moves by memory, her early morning routine ingrained in her memory, the quiet voices of her companions acting as echo locators for her barely awake brain.  When she reaches the end of the aisle, she opens the final door, and new light begins flooding in, the pink sky burning brighter and brighter as the sun peaks and begins feeling its way toward her, rays creating pathways of light across green, frozen fields.  Frost covers the piping on the fences surrounding her and as she shields her eyes from the bright day, she takes a sip of coffee, relishing in the life it creates inside her.  There is nothing but silence for her in these moments, silence and the sounds of moving hooves, and low, sleepy nickers.  She waits, waiting to feel the slightest warmth from the sun, before she begins moving again.  Each morning brings a new list of items to be checked off but she finds time in these moments of peace to steel herself and relish in the freedom being here provides.  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a sleepy face emerge over the top of a stall wall, dark eyes blinking quickly in the face of the bright sun, clean, white blaze creating a stark contrast against its chocolate background.  She reaches out a hand to stroke the white marking, imagining the softness of the hair under her glove.  As if to urge her along in the completion of the most pertinent of chores, feeding breakfast, heads begin slowly arriving over the tops of doors along the rest of the aisle, nickers becoming more and more urgent as the moments pass.  She takes another sip from her coffee, thankful for its burning encouragement, flips on the light switch, and begins her day.