A Rain-Scrubbed Day

The close, feted darkness of the house behind me,
warm, but confining in it’s demands and restrictions
I stand in the doorway
looking on the greens of leaves and grass
made impossibly bright by new rain come and gone.
This rare bright day of fresh air beckons
but so do the needs of those within.

The challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a story in exactly 55 words. Flash Fiction 55 is hosted by the G-man, a host with the most.

This one was inspired by a poem by Eaton