From around the corner came a man dressed in royal blue. Lifeless, red eyes at No. 39 widened behind net curtains, only to narrow as the man stopped and turned into No. 36.
Reaching a faded green door, the man in blue paused – a single finger ran down his clipboard.
Overhead angry clouds grumbled; heavy drops of rain began to fall. A flash of lightening streaked across the troubled sky.
The path to No. 36 now lay quiet; dark puddles formed in the empty street. The curtains at No. 39 fell still in despair – perhaps tomorrow would be their day.
These words form my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.