It was a dreary day. Even though the morning had just begun, and the sun was just beginning to rise in the almost cloudless sky. I could barely look at the sky pass the buildings. It's bloody red colors made my heart ach.
I had almost passed the towering sky scraper that was my work place, since my head had been hanging low. But the bench that sat alone between the building, and the next, made me stop. The beautiful pot of flowers that use to be there now gone, having been broken by several that were in argument. The pot was broken not because of age, and wear, but it had gotten wrapped up in another's mess. Leaving the bench alone.
People passed me were I had stopped to look at the building. They were all happy, and or indifferent to the cruelness that shadowed over us, like a cloud before a harsh storm. I took a look up at the building as I went to the door. It towered above me, and touched the blood stained sky before rising higher, to sky that only hinted of red. The building itself was a dull gray, filled with sorrow.
A cheerful looking man held the door for me. Giving a questioning look to me, after seeing my expression was filled with grief. I continued to my office, starting my day as I would. Putting the sorrows of life behind me. Finally a distraction, sadly it was only for a bit.
YOU ARE READING
Perspective
Historical FictionA story of loss, and gain. With many surprising twists, two lives with be intertwined unknowingly. The lives of two fathers during the 1940's, in the United States, as they do their best for their families during the harsh, and fearful times of wa...
