Petrichor

The noise of the wind subsided mere minutes before the sun began to rise. Some of the neighbour’s roofs sheltered bare trunks of the felled trees that littered the streets metres from where they once stood. Now it had passed she sat on her creaking balcony, sheltered by only a blanket and took in the petrichor. She watched how the reflections shifted as the dawn broke over the flooded street and realised just how tired she was, but her bloodshot eyes sat comfortably in their bags.