For Sonya’s Three Line Tales prompt.
photo by Jorge Flores via Unsplash
The others had gone, fled homeward, hoping to find something left; she was the only one who had stayed behind to pick through the rubble, also hoping something would be left.
The blasts had blown out all the windows, fire had swept through the rooms, and the art materials had ignited in a huge bonfire of aspirations and talent.
The others believed that saving their skins was more important than saving their work, but she would not leave while there was a shred of hope that not everything had been destroyed, then she would decide if there was any future worth running towards.