Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge presented by my old friend Al Forbes.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in his picture (below).
This week’s spectacular city skyline reminds of happy days in cities from Sydney to San Francisco to Paris.
Especially San Francisco.
Click on this link to enter your tale, and see what others have written.
The city is hot.
It is a humid, sweltering, torpid, fly-infested heat.
Even the ubiquitous rats seem lethargic.
I scowl at her as though it is her fault.
She looks at me as though she has just scraped me off her shoe.
We used to love each other.
Maybe we still do, it is hard to tell.
There has been no wind, not a breath, for many weeks.
It is late August, and there has been no rain this year.
People talk of the good old days, say they remember when the temperature was in the thirties.
It now holds steady at around forty-five Celsius.
Some adventurous types headed off to the country, came back when they found it was an arid wasteland.
She looks at me, darkly.
My eyes drift longingly to the air-conditioning.
It does not work, of course.
There is not a working system in the city.
There is no one alive who can repair them.
Hasn’t been for nearly twenty years.
I look at her.