He turned away from the window. The view was far too industrial for his liking. The room too did not feel right. He wanted a nice and cosy apartment, but this one felt unwelcoming and hard. He shivered a little. Maybe the heater was just switched off, he thought, but dismissed the thought again when he remembered how warm it had been outside. It was something about the room itself. It seemed to suck all warmth out of it.
He shivered again, the keys to the apartment cold steel in his palm, and walked back to the window. He opened it a little, hoping to let in a nice warm breeze. Just as he was tilting the window, he saw the accident.
The blue car had stopped moving as the traffic slowed down, waiting for the cars to move. Just then, a small white lorry had barrelled into it with great speed, reducing both cars to a pile of metal.
He quickly stepped back from the window, shaking his head rapidly. He’d rather be homeless than live here.
© 2016
Sunday Photo Fiction, July 10th 2016
FELICIA HEILGENDORFF 
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