Written for Sunday Scribblings - 'Solitary'
She packed a few things into her backpack; she only had a few things. Walking to the door, she stopped and looked back at the room where she had led her silent and solitary existence. Drawers hung open, empty. Her bed stripped, sad. An old grey television, her only companion, sat greyer still on a crate in a corner beside a lank, stained curtain which hung limply on two or three hooks above a grimy window. The only sound now was the drip drip dripping of the tap.
She closed the door behind her; a clunk echoed down the murky hall. A wry smile crept across her lips as she called out a last goodbye to the seemingly invisible people who lived their quiet lives behind closed doors. She stepped over a pile of gaudy junk mail scattered across the crooked door mat, and opened the door to her new life beyond her grim chamber of loneliness
A shaft of sunlight settled on her weary shoulders; a ray of hope, a sign of better things to come. An elderly lady walking her dog smiled at her. A baby in a pushchair waved at her. A gipsy woman peered at her from beneath her scarf, winked and pushed a bunch of lucky heather into her palm. Something bright and shiny caught her attention in the gutter and picking it up, she found she found herself clutching a lottery ticket in her hand. A few feet along the street stood a newsagent shop with the Lotto logo illuminated above its window. My time has come she thought at she strode up to the counter. Her time had come.
Picture - 'Looking Back' by Lesta at deviantART