Eerily empty, places all around, forsaken. No scampering feet, no jostling crowds, no haggling customers, no springtime frolicking. Nothing. The fountain sings alone, old coins rusting at its base. No hushed secrets, no whispered confessions, no more a witness to furtive kisses. Everywhere, all around, a ghostly silence, thick grey shroud, beneath which, the questions lurk, the whats, whos, wheres, their answers eluding, confounding. Deep inside the caves, there is science and reason, the protections, the preventions. Out in the garden, the flowers are blooming, red and yellow and white and the birds are chirping and cat, basking in sunshine. Linking with Friday Fictioneers The picture prompt for this week is PHOTO PROMPT © Ceayr