Retribution

She ran faster and faster, though Glom’s voice had faded long ago. Finally, she slowed, panting, and found herself at the docks. The sky was a soaring, majestic blue, with nary a cloud in sight. She pulled the orange out of a fold in her ragged skirt and strolled down the street. Her bare feet slapped the sun-warmed wood pleasantly, and sweet orange juice dribbled down her chin. _See, Mum? It was worth it!_ Seneca though impishly.

The sky cracked open and hard, angry rain drops pelted down. Seneca was soaked through in a matter of seconds. She stood shivering, stunned. The orange dropped out of her hand. “Thanks, Mum.” She muttered aloud, and headed off toward the nearest doorway.