Photo Fiction: Palm Trees in the Snow

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“I’m being transfered,” said David Martin.

“I see,” responded his wife, Beth.

The blowing wind filled the silence, while the snow on the palm trees emphasised the chill.

“They’re sending me to Mars,” he said.

“You’re running away again,” said Beth without looking at him.

“It’s a government assignment. If I refused, my career would be over. If you interfered, your career would be over. I can’t say no.”

“You’re running from life here. You’re running from me. You’re running from Earth,” said Beth, her voice cold and even. She turned and walked away without waiting for a reply.

David stared after his wife. California must be colder than Mars.

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