Photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
She looked at the Sun and sighed. One more day was about to end.
‘He would come today, surely. Has to?’
But she knew that she was only trying to fool herself; he would never return.
Still she was not willing to get rid of the hope that she had nurtured for last ten years.
She looked through the window. The Sun had set. She was distracted by something that was sticking to her withered hands.
She washed her hands, repeatedly; but somehow was unable to cleanse them.
That irritated her.
She looked through the window but everything appeared hazy.
A post for FridayFictioneers on a picture prompt
Word count 100