The curtains stayed open, and when the first dark day of Autumn moved in, she was okay with it. A new and shy feeling after everything that had happened, tucked away in a sacred corner of her heart, to slowly mature into new passion.
The cloud cover was so dense that she needed to turn the lights on despite it being long after sunrise, and outside, a curtain of strong rain shrouded the area. Circles expanded on the puddles in the street below, which did not seem to bother the golden and brown leafs floating atop. The same adornment dappled the back window of a parking car. The colours stood out against the black livery, as well as the dark grey sky. Even the black asphalt of the backstreet seemed to glow in the rain. It had something mystical and made her feel very cosy. Did she spot a nuance of orange blossoming between the leafs of the maple trees over by the garages?
The air coming in through the open window smelled like sea-fret. There must have been a West wind. It would be a while until she would see the purple crocuses on the lawn, again. Rain sprinkled the windowsill on the inside. She closed the window. But the curtains, the curtains stayed open.
After this microfiction came into being, the following writing prompts have been woven into it:
#FromOneLine 314 — The curtains stayed open, #brknshards — sacred, #rise365 25 — mature, #vss365 — passion, #MastoPrompt — nuance, #vssnature — orange blossom, #whistpr — crocus