Carrying her few possessions in a backpack, she took a last look at the room in which she’d led her solitary existence. Drawers hung open; the bed stripped. An old grey television, her only companion, sat greyer still on a crate in a corner. A stained curtain hung on two or three hooks above a grimy window; the only sound, the drip-drip-drip of a tap.
She turned and wandered down the murky hall and a wry smile crept across her lips as she called out a final goodbye to the seemingly invisible people who lived their quiet lives behind closed doors. Stepping over a pile of junk mail on the crooked doormat she pushed open the door to a new life beyond her chamber of loneliness.
A shaft of sunlight settled on her shoulders; a ray of hope. A lady walking her dog smiled. A baby in a pushchair waved. A gipsy woman winked and pressed a bunch of lucky heather into her palm. A ten-pound note blew into her path. My time has come she thought. Her time had come.
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers which is hosted by Priceless Joy. The picture prompt is by Jade M. Wong