Work Text:
Freedom is the fresh, spring air in her lungs and the sun on her face; the leaves who outgrow big oaks to float endlessly, or land comfortably upon the chocolate topping of her homemade mille-feuille; the ability to lounge, to loaf, to laze without the threat that all would be forsaken. Freedom is baby-smooth hands, cleansed along a drifting lake and buffed with kisses and wool the color of her dreams. Freedom is her husband, her Buttons, whose loving fingers strum across ukulele strings and whose voice drifts to the highest treetops, joining the larks and the warblers in song.