The downpour blocked her view and trickled icy down her neck from where she huddled under the tiny awning. Sierra could barely see across the parking lot, let alone study the graffitied mural she’d watched the hooded artist create last year.
Last year, when she’d been able to afford the one-bedroom and she hadn’t minded sleeping on the couch. Not when Mama needed the bed after another round of poison that shrank her very bones, no matter that the doctors said it would save her.
Now…the baker’s wife had already tapped on the glass twice, and her arms ached from the stack of heavy books. She’d wasted the last of her funds unknowing, blithely secure in job and student status.
And now, the scent of damp pages rose from the precious art books in a thick technicolor miasma that blended with the fog and did nothing to blur the salt from her tears.
The next rap made her bolt across the street, heedless of the further damage to her shattered dreams. The one thing her mama had made her promise was not let go, and tonight her dreams flew on wings far above her reach.
Best she leave her mourning in the street with the last of the rain.
Tomorrow she’d search for a new job and settle into trudging dreariness.
Only she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, the remnant of swollen eyes and years she’d spent in hospitals rather than learning her way.
From the darkness came a golden, neon glow from an open door, and she was chilled enough now to dash for friendly lights and get her bearings.
And within the blur of falling water and glinting light arose wings bigger than any eagle she’d ever seen, rippling open and stretching beyond the wooden doors…
***
Leigh Kimmel prompted: The downpour had become so heavy you could barely see across parking lot. And then you glimpsed…
My prompt – The scheduling bot was the perfect assistant, until… – also went to Leigh this week. Check it out over at MOTE!
