The cool whoosh of the Autumn breeze cleared my thoughts as I sat down on the grainy sand.
As I sat there, unfolding my journal, beginning to write, I noted the cheerful sun peeping from behind the clouds.
I was partway through a sentence when I felt a dull thud to the top of my head.
Irritated, I picked up the accusing object and couldn't help but smile.
It was the slightly constipated-looking 'angry' devART stress ball.
A guy ran over, "Sorry 'bout that" he laughed.
"It's ok". I grinned, tossing the ball to him. "You have deviantART I'm guessing" I asked, brushing the sand off my hands.
"Yeah. It's great. You should check it out, maybe even sign up!" He answered, chucking the ball to his mate.
"I already have" I replied, smiling.
And I realised that saying those three words made me feel I belonged.