PHOTO PROMPT © Shaktiki Sharma
By Neel Anil Panicker
She comes with the rains. The memories…of hers…of ours.
That’s when I am left with no choice but to step out and walk to the stand across the street.
There in the open, I expose myself to the elements, every pore of my being drenched in tears that stream down, forming little rivulets that get sucked into the dirty drains.
That’s when she comes___waltzing past the streaming street lights, her black curly at the edges hairs now an inflamed red, billowing into the windy skies.
I reach out to embrace her.
She walks past me__a bus stop full of memories.