100-Word Fiction: ‘Tomorrow’

The air conditioning blows against the office cold while the mice scuttle in the dust of the ducts.

The flagpoles of opposing buildings are wrapped tight with their blind standards.

A solitary gull circles above the white towers; above the dripping lights of theatreland.

Cars choke the arteries all the way to the estuaries where the mud has frozen for the oncoming night.

Dog walkers, somewhere, reel in the leash and head for home.

Against the hallway’s silence, the letterbox rattles only with the empty wind.

The year closes up, squeezes us out, out towards the barren ghosts of tomorrow.