A story inspired by this photo provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. I’m a little late to the party this week, but here’s my story. Enjoy!
Brianna stepped from the washroom. The glare from the evening sun through the restaurant’s front windows startled her. She squinted between the gem-colored wine bottles that separated her from the customers.
She was stood up.
And he called her. Richard hadn’t showed, just as she figured he wouldn’t. Might as well go home.
A tall, sandy-haired man charged through the front door. Gold watch, Armani jacket, expensive shoes, and new jeans? Could it be?
Twelve years ago, she had met him in the 12th Avenue alley where he lived in a dilapidated refrigerator box.
She gave him twenty dollars that day.