Janet knelt on the worn hassock, her head resting on her clasped hands. She stared glassy-eyed at the dull image of Christ in a murky stain glassed window behind the alter.
This wasn’t how her life was meant to be. Thirty six, widowed and mourning the loss of a child.
It should have been perfect. It had been perfect.
And now she felt bereft and lost.
A thin slither of light shone through a blue shard and a small hand patted her shoulder.
‘Come-on, Mum, this place gives me the creeps. Let’s go to the park and feed the ducks.’
Oh, Rob, that's so atmospheric! You did the details of place really effectively there. Thanks for these Drabbles.
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