A short stand alone piece about loss and loyalty.
Mark sat on The cold gray porch as the rain trickled down. The stale air of the city clung to him like an unwanted cologne. The sun was trying to peek out from behind a cloud, but it wasn't quite out yet.
The Young boy sat there alone, his red jacket growing dark from the water soaking into it. An old woman walking a small dog walked by walking briskly ready to get out of the rain. The smog made the sky appear a rich champagne color. The pollution was a shame, but it was beautiful.
The front door opened behind Mark. He quickly turned to see the doctor coming out. The man must have forgotten Mark was going to be out there. They stood a moment gazing at each other. The doctor broke away his stare and walked around Mark down the narrow walk way. He paused a moment, looking over his shoulder. He gave the boy an apologetic look, but he had no more to offer.
"Mark." The boy turned to see his sister standing in the door way behind him. Her eyes were red and she help a soggy tissue in her hands. He looked at he feet a moment and sniffled. A fat drop dripping down her cheek. he rose her head slowly , her red pig tails waving merrily in contrast to her sad eyes. "Mom is dead."
Martha Harris hurried under the bus stop to escape the rain, her little dachshund shaking the water off of him. She crouched down and gave her little friend a scratch behind the ear smiling in her new dry haven. She looked up so see Mark and Susan Westman holding each other crying. Doctor Gibson was getting in his car with a somber look on his face. Martha returned her attention to the children crying in front of their apartment. Their mother used to play backgammon with her before the cancer got bad. She used visit Laura to help with the children and to try to cheer her up, but the doctors said it took too much out of her.
She stood there as the rain fell down. The doctors car passed her by briefly obscuring the morning children. It was a shame their mother was gone, but the scene sure was beautiful.