Though officials took us in, their welcome was forced.
The meadow was dotted with makeshift dwellings which looked like heaven compared to what we’d endured to get here. Pa ruffled my hair, whispering that it was over. We were safe.
He was half right.
A woman with long, grey braids approached Pa, pointed to the edge of the meadow, patted his shoulder, and walked away. “What is it, Pa?” I followed his stare to a yellow tent.
“There’s not enough food here,” he pulled me close. “We’re in the lottery.”
”Are we staying in the yellow tent?”
“Let’s hope not.”
August 2, 2018 prompt: Yellow tent – In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes a yellow tent.