Footprints

The footprints in the frost on the grass were all that was left. She stood at the door and followed with her eyes the trail across the front lawn, then they disappeared where the footpath lay, and then they started again across the nature strip. There was a dry patch where his car had sat overnight. She sighed and even the steam from her breath seemed melancholic. It was over. She hoped. But she had hoped this before.

 

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