They are young and the sky is wild and swirling grey, electric with dreams of storm and thunder.
“We should get inside,” she whispers. “It’s going to rain.”
“Then let it rain,” he answers. “We won’t let it spoil our day.”
They are older and the sky is clear and blue and empty.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
But he’s already turned away.
They are old and the sky is fluffy white as ground and water, a world painted in winter’s monochrome.
“After all this time,” he says. “Here. Still here.”
“Where else would I be?” She smiles – snow-white, clear, electric as lightning. “Where else can you see a sky like this?”
Word Count: 110
This is for FFfAW. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and wildverbs for providing the prompt photo!