Photo credit: © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
They didn’t know when Power would return.
When they’d be allowed to leave.
Only that it would have to.
Because it had been promised. And they’d been raised to listen. And believe.
The grid was down. The streets were bare. The shelves that once were filled to the brim were naked in the lanterns’ glare.
It mattered none.
When they had faith.
Power had said, before he left, the back of the car packed with goods he “had to take to the needier elsewhere,” that they were meant to wait, “indefinitely, if need be.”
An test of faith.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers