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At first glance, Morgana did not seem like the kind of person who would say that summer was her favourite season.
She wore black nail varnish and black eye make-up and black lipstick and black combat boots and black skinny jeans and black tops and leather jackets- normally black.
She did have clothes in other colours. Of course she did. She just didn’t like wearing them around other people or on a regular basis. They were saved for special occasions, like fancy parties and when she met up with her father to tell him what she wanted for Christmas or her birthday.
Morgna did not come across as worm or summery, because quite frankly, she wasn’t.
But she adored the summer.
She liked the extravagance of painting her toenails and putting glitter on them, finding all her old sunglasses at the back of her wardrobe and arranging them on the table in the hall, wearing soft floaty things instead of leather and denim, being able to renounce socks completely. She could wake up and put on a sundress and a pair of crocs and be completely set for the day, apart from putting on suncream in preparation for leaving the house. She could eat fruit that tasted of sunshine for breakfast while sitting in the garden and then lie on the grass and sunbathe.
Her job was a lot more pleasant in summer; for many years it had been the only time where the manager was willing to let them turn on the air conditioning and stop the room from getting even stuffier than normal but now Morgana was the manager, she could go one better and have everyone working outside. Well, mostly she was the only one who worked outside because none of the others were willing to put up with the bugs. That suited Morgana perfectly; she could swing her legs up onto the bench on the other side of the table without fear of accidentally kicking someone and sing as loudly as she wanted to.
In the summer, Morgana went for walks and took holidays and swam in her brother’s swimming pool. In the summer, she also had to try and persuade her brother’s boyfriend not to turn the swimming pool into a pond like he threatened to every year. His argument was that they would still be able to swim in the pond and that it would be better for the environment. He won her round to the idea more and more each year.
Morgana, in the summer, with her floaty dresses and strappy sandals and flowery headbands, was practically the picture girl for summer.
Then she met Gwen.
-
Gwen came into the office for an interview to be the new receptionist with her hair fanning out around her face, some pinned back with rose-gold clips, wearing an egg-yolk yellow maxi skirt swirling around the top of her lime green converse and a white blouse with tiny embroidered daisies on it. A worn raffia bag hung over her shoulder. “Hi!” she smiled at Morgana. “I’m Gwen. I’m here for the receptionist interview.”
“Morgana Pendragon. It’s just through there.”
“Thank you.”
As Gwen walked past her, Morgana saw the pride flag tags on the back of Gwen’s shoes.
“Is it just through that door there?” Gwen asked, jolting Morgana out of her daze.
“Uh yeah, yeah. I really like your shoes.” Morgana blurted out.
Gwen smiled. “Thank you.” She took a few more steps and then stopped and turned around. “Uh, do you want to go for drinks, later? Like a date? That’s probably kind of unprofessional but I really don’t think I’m going to get this job and you’re really pretty, so, I might as well ask, right?”
“I would love to go for drinks with you.”
-
Gwen got the job, and two years later she also got a summer wedding to a summer girl like her.