I promised Bekah Shambrook I would enter her contest, so here it is. Telling a story in 50 words is much harder than you’d think – you ought to try it.
He was not coming.
A distant, watery sun traced the sky, beyond the cobweb beaded with tiny crystals.
She sat, breath puffing in the sharp-spun air. The melt down her face was the only trace of tears.
The Ice Queen sat and waited for a spring that would never come.