The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction. She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.
She knelt at the threshold and kissed its dust. Her parting glance was blurred by silent tears. Then she stepped across. Into the twilight of 14th August, 1947.
A Tryst with Destiny was being made.
Linking with Trifextra : Week Thirty-Two