The (Holy) Magazine.

Sunny day outside, warm temperature inside, bed awaiting and borrowed Antarctic air on full blast.
As far as holidays went, it was a bore, God thought to himself as he flipped the pages and hummed to himself.
Yawn; scratch belly; pastels; turbulent weather.
Aha!
Change of plans.
Throwing in the blue, breaking the graphic, adding some shade, becoming a she.
And stepped into the pages he’d written for herself, you and me.