She walked on the icy pavement in front of the warehouse; oblivious to the trees that had cried through the night too. Chattering teeth were her answer to the icy silence of the yard. Unable to move anymore, she plopped down in front of the door; hugging herself, trying to stay alive. The sun peeped out, breaking free of its cold shackles and she waited – for death or an angel, she didn’t know.
“Follow your dreams,” they say. But they never say how; how to make a living in an alien city; how not to die there alone and miserable.
Flash fiction in response to Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff.