ANNABETH

Every morning, when the sun rises and it’s rays hits her uncorrupted face, she wakes up.
She wakes up stretching her hands almost as if she has no care in the world. But don’t let her joyful self fool you.
Don’t let her joyful self fool you because she carries her sorrows on her wide, would lift your mood in seconds, smile effortlessly. Ah! That smile.
Ah! That smile. That stubborn curve, it refuses to upturn even in the most difficult predicaments. It feels like every sorrow that touches her turns to feather.
Every sorrow that touches her turns to feather. So light that it doesn’t even cause a ripple in her pure and content heart. Oh! What do one say about her heart.
Oh! What do one say about her heart. Filled to the brim with love and care for others that it has no space for any kind of malice. Her hair is just like her heart.
Her hair is just like her heart, red and ever flowing with glee. It always surprises people. How can one be this happy in this world with this life?
How can one be this happy in this world with this life? To which the answer is simple – She chooses to stroll than run trying to win it.
She is peace.