The view looked like some kind of soulless painting. Beautiful but no signs of life. She used to know the names for artistic stuff like that. Photorealistic, maybe? Hell. It was all apocalyptic now. Unexpectedly, tears blurred her vision. She thought her grief had run its course but seeing those empty chairs. So expectant. So normal. Just waiting for someone with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine.
Closing her eyes, she shut down those thoughts. She was rooftop for recon. Not useless nostalgia. Before was done. It’s after now.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Thanks for the inspiration. Visit Rochelle’s Friday Fictioner for details about joining in the fun. Plus while you’re there, you can read lots of wonderful stories.