She lay there motionless on the cold, bare kitchen floor, staring up at the utensils. The morning light was just starting to make it’s way through the grim covered skylight. She had found this small place for herself and made it her own. But these little quarters that she had considered her sanctuary for so many months, had changed overnight.
The day John finished his 15 year sentence, he made his way to the old neighborhood. His eyes paused at the run down building. With its corrugated iron roof, frayed walls and intact windows – it tug at his heart-strings.
As Carl drove up the rugged path in his Ford-150, Cecelia eye’s drifted up ahead. The sun was dipping below the horizon and the sky showcased hues of orange and blue. Cecilia’s arms were covered in goosebumps. It must be the chill in the air, she thought.