Amaranth set the damp, curling poster upright, next to the over-flowing garbage cans. Too full, for memories.
She wiped her brow. In the mid-morning heat, the stench of mildew rose from every crack and crevice.
Hard to believe, but the river had been this high, this time yesterday.
Now, content within its banks, it ran merrily along, downstream. A naughty child, who has gotten away with murder.
The black-and-white poster dated from Amaranth’s Abbey days, when her faith gushed forth. An uncontainable flood.
But who could justify such caprice?
God’s will was anybody’s guess.
Hope drained from her, like water.