The breeze swept the sweat from Penelope’s brow and cooled her as she ran. Everyday the same route, along the forest path until it cleared to reveal a vista of rolling fields marked by lush green hedge-rows. The sight of it made Penelope gag. Steve had taken this route. He’d come through the trees to look down on the fields and enjoy the view. He did it everyday… or at least he used to. No one had seen him for months, but if he was anywhere, Penelope was sure it would be here. So she ran, ran his route, swallowing the bile of loneliness, regret and a selfish anger.
“Why did you have to go? Was I not enough? Not good enough to stay for?”
There was no answer other than the rustle of leaves as the wind tried to shake them from their branches. Until there was,
“Penelope?”
The Write Site 
This weeks texts are my favourite genre that you do. You have enough words to start to build a depiction of character or setting (making each word count) and then cleverly leave it hanging at the end.
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