Photo prompt: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The shop lights illuminated the cobbled paving, glowing bright white and golden, enhanced by the street lights suspended above the pedestrianised area. Sheila winced at her last mouthful of cold coffee, surprised she’d managed to make it last for an hour. The dirty looks sent her way by the proprietor of the café told her she must move. Stealing herself she opened the café door and walked out in to cold loneliness wondering if anybody she saw before her were happy in their lives. Nobody noticed her which summed up her humdrum existence, stuck in the rat race of corporate business.