“You okay, my love?” the toothless, scraggly looking man asked her as he ambled past, pushing his shopping trolley filled with old newspapers. He had that musty smell of one who hasn’t seen water for weeks.
“Yes, thank you, I’m quite alright.” She smiled in a way that she hoped politely told him to bog off. She didn’t dare move, frozen to the spot.
“Suit yerself.” His trolley rumbled over the cobblestones as he moved away.
She sighed. She’d just have to stay put until nightfall now that her tutu was snagged on the wall. If she moved, she knew it would rip clean way, and then she’d be on display for all and sundry.
Thanks, Bikergurl, for the prompt and the photo!
