Photo courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The bay window looks homey; a place to escape the world outside the walls. I imagine a warm kitchen, rich with the scent of comfort food – someone’s haven from the storm.
Word count: 100
The Way We Were
Craning his neck, he spotted their window on the fourth floor.
A snug apartment, it was where they were happiest, wrapped around each other, dreaming of their future. All their problems disappeared and worries were held at bay. He was her comfort, her shield, her hero.
Remembering that evening so many years before, the red police lights on the wet pavement alerted him to the crisis. A jumper, they said, DOA. Pushing through the crowd, he whispered “which window?”
The fluttering kitchen curtain waved in apology as his dreams vaporized into the rain, heroism a burden he no longer carried.
To see other stories, please visit the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields site here.
© Erin Leary