There was an old door, round as the moon, the blue and yellow paint around it gradually wearing off, falling away in little chips. It just stood there, slowly being torn apart by time.
The lettering above the door declared its purpose: “Photo Centre.” The bolts and closed windows made it clear that nobody had taken any photos there in a long time.
Nobody had done anything in that town for a long time. The only occupants were animals: the birds perched on the roofs, the rats crawling under the floorboards, the spiders spinning their beautiful webs.
It was a dead place, an empty place. I was the only left who remembered it as it had been before that day, before the Swarm had come and civilization had fallen apart.
This old building was my home and my protection. It was where I waited.
Word Count: 146
This is my entry for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and to Uday for providing the photo prompt!