All the world was an Impressionist’s blur: a Van Gogh in grey. Water beads glistened on their way down the window, slow as caterpillars.
The later summer afternoon felt like a winter evening. The air tasted cold, everything was shrouded grey, and he looked out his window at the half-formed shapes of the empty world.
A bird perched in the branches, grey feathers wet with grey rain. A woman in a drenched coat walked down drenched sidewalks, heels clicking with disappointment. A beat-up car stopped by the roadside, headlights blaring, still and silent for five minutes before it rolled on, slouching towards the city.
Then he saw the child, striding down the street, raincoat daisy-yellow, boots splashing in every puddle, laughter on her face. Her mother raced beside her, all smiles.
The bird took to the air, raindrops fluttering from its feathers, and light shone through the grey clouds.
Word Count: 149
This is for FFfAW. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and wildverbs for providing the prompt photo!