Photo prompt: © David Stewart
The streets still shone with wet but the dome of sky stretched clear above. The wind had swept away the clouds.
She shivered even though the air was warm. Perhaps it was the damp that had her reaching for her shawl.
She hugged herself and wondered if she’d ever know whether he had left because he wanted to or because he had no other choice or because he did not know any better.
“Where are you?” she whispered.
She jumped when the fountain unexpectedly came to life and bathed the roundabout in blue.
It felt like a hello. From Hugh.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Na'ama Yehuda 
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