Here's another drabble that simply poured out during StoryADay May. It feels like it shows a lot, since I don't explicitly say what's going on. What do you think?
She sat in her rocking chair on the porch, sweet tea on the glass and iron table beside her and the sun setting before her. The last person had left, walking their way down the creaking stairs and across the gravel to their car. She watched the dust cloud follow the car out to the highway. Alone was better, not best, but better than having people in her home invading her space. Her knees popped with every push against the rocking chair. As the sun sank below the horizon, she whispered her last goodbye to the love of her life.
