Birds sung in the trees. The leaves were golden, the waters grey. The sun hung low, burning bright in their eyes. He wore black and she wore red.
The flags still waved, unaware of gathering clouds.
Neither of them would forget a single detail of that day at childhood’s end.
“Will we still be friends?” he asked. “If the war comes?”
She gave no answer.
They sat, watching the light on the waters, for they knew even then that it was the last moment and if they moved, it would be lost like rain in the ocean.
Word Count: 97
This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Dorothy for providing the prompt photo!