a temple

The sultry wind caresses her wispy hair as she steps down the gangway. Once on the pier, the local men, children, and women surround her, their hands extended ― some with cheap scarves and trinkets, some empty.

She passes the buses waiting for passengers, who have paid to be taken to places with more hands before returning to the never-ending food and the towels folded into the shapes of animals.

She approaches a driver of a taxicab.

“Temple?”

He nods.

She no longer travels to see the world but to be alone.

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

For Friday Fictioneers-21 April 2023.