She shivers but she can’t walk away from the blue-grey cloud-ship sailing across the horizon. As it moves, it leaves a trail of fluffy white clouds on a burnt pink sea.
Mesmerised, she sits down. She shivers but continues to watch.
Overhead aeroplane trails criss-cross the still blue atmosphere, like some giant marking out a tally on the sky.
A man takes photos.
A couple walk their dog.
Pigeons coo.
Too soon the cloud-ship sails on, morphing into something else, the photographer finishes shooting, the pigeons nestle down and the dog does its business.
She shivers.
She should go home.