The Crimson Streak

The November day had been particular cold with little spatters of rain. I looked out of my kitchen window just before darkness fell. The picture was monochrome. The houses and cars were all tones of grey. The sky appeared stormy and forbidding. It looked like a scene before colour photography was discovered. The scene was as cold and dreary as the day had been.

Then I noticed a sliver of crimson in the sky, no thicker than a brush stroke. As I watched it widened, then narrowed and disappeared. The sinking sun which had been non-existent during the day had found a minute patch of sky where it could shine. A tiny miracle.