She stood at the kitchen window pensive and disconnected. The sink full of dishes had been waiting all night. Her wrinkled hands picking up a dish absent-mindedly as she gazed into her neighbour’s kitchen. The early morning sunlit rays highlighted the dust floating in the air. She followed the beam with her eyes. It landed on his grey balding head. She missed his visits.
He turned and waved knowing she was there, she shot back to life. Gone are the days of hugs and handshaking she thought. No more pillow talk, we’ll just have to talk through the fence again.
Go to Rochelle Wisoff’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers.