PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
She wore white, and stood under the stoned archway, her sombre eyes staring at
him till he was out of sight. She was always there as if she had a prior inkling of
him pass by. Never was a word uttered nor a greeting exchanged.
Today he has returned to the cobbled pathway after a quarter century.
She still stood under the fading archway wearing white and didn't look a day older
while his pate wore a receding hairline. His efforts to break ice with her was
greeted with stony silence.