Scott L Vannatter – 8/22/14
Mariella sat, umbrella opened in hand, on a common black trunk, all three getting soaked from the downpour on the railroad loading platform.
As wet as she was, her cheeks were getting wetter as her hot, salty tears poured down, mixing with the freshwater rain and dissolving into oblivion.
The trainmaster left his post to walk out in the drenching liquid, march over to her, and tap the poor, sad woman on the shoulder.
“Miss, there are no more arrivals today since the big quake in ‘Frisco and all.”
She quietly nodded, turning back and looking again toward the city which held her hopes and her fiancé.
Scott L Vannatter