She thinks too much. Time and time again she has been told this. Yet time and time again, she doesn’t care. It is as much a part of her as an olive in her martini. Without it there would be no point. She would have it no other way.
To her, the sun shines brighter. Some days it dances in her eyes. Some days it seduces her, beckons her and slowly guides her out in to the world. Other days, it is cruel to her, bearing down on her without apology or remorse. But she would rather the seduction or the cruelty, than the abandonment when the sun finds shelter in the clouds and hides itself from her.
True, she could have her martini dry or lemon flavored with a sugar rim – but to her there is no other way than with her trusty friend, the green olive. A little bitter with a touch of salt and burst of flavor, it complements the clear and straightforward gulp that follows.
She thinks too much.