Ella

She stood at the corner. She was going to visit her friend. Old. She never wavered or paced, nor did she fidget back and forth. Solid, she stood on the sidewalk along a slim lawn that separated her from the busy street—waiting for the bus.
Her name was Ella.
She wore a pastel tweed coat. She and the coat were a cut from decades long past. She, not the coat, had shrunk in size. The fluffy green strands from her lambswool knit hat were the only parts of her affected by the breeze. Pastel eye shadow flaked under her eyebrows and her red rouge had collected in the creases of her cheeks. Her face held an expression of experienced

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