Racecourse

After the rain I meandered alone following the centre orange line painted on the open tarmac of the now deserted raceway. The moody pale sky hung overhead. On both sides of me the sheltered spectator stands stood sternly, their black roofs over-shadowing this place where expensive racing cars would have their starting positions. Walking further, I gazed into the distance where lines of perspective converged and the first curve of the track gave way to a far-away hillside. Now no-one was here, and this swathe of tarmac, shining, slick with rainwater, felt abandoned and empty in the early morning light.