People would say she did it because she was tricked, because that frog was clever and charming, and because she was naive and wanted her ball back.
But, really, neither was true. You see, she felt the soft smooth lips of her mother while saying goodnight, and she felt the hot wet lips of a boy while behind the bushes. And when that frog tilted his head and she saw the moonlight reflect off his skin, she was not beguiled. She was curious.
So, she kissed his cold damp flesh, and was disappointed when he turned into another prince.
“On your left, way you’ll find the original monastery built during the life of Saint Francis…”
The heat absorbed her words. The nearest tree was out of range of the guide’s voice, so the tourists politely sweltered, letting their minds wander to anything that wasn’t the Italian summer sun on white stone cobblestones.
The locals smirked from the darkened windows.
Wiping her brow, she looked longingly towards the forbidden patch of earth, and she realized how ridiculous they all were. Even the pigeons, who normally seemed oblivious to anything besides breadcrumbs, all cowered from the sun in the shade.
Another productive day, the sun scorches his retinas through his eyelids and brings him from Resting into New Potential.
In the carefully calculated route, he moves from the bedroom, to the bathroom, ending in the kitchen, where he fixes his Nutritious Breakfast in exactly nine minutes and thirteen seconds, and then consumes it in five minutes and forty-seven seconds, using the allotted fifteen minutes exactly.
The precisely choreographed routine brings every citizen to Designated Work without traffic or delay–not a moment wasted.
At his desk he checks the clock–nine o’ clock. He smiles and begins: “Welcome to Desert Bluffs!”