photo by Sean Tan via Unsplash
The lake is icy still, a mirror reflecting the sky’s shifting, mottled face, just as it did that day years ago.
Quiet here but for the blow of Canada geese, the creak and whisper of distant trees, dour chaperones to my every move.
If I had heard your cries. If I had kept you close. But ‘ifs’ are as helpful as that sign and its shedding paint, the letters dropping through the frigid water …
Written for Sonya at Only 100 Word’s Three Line Tales. See the lovely pic and write a little tale. See here to join in and to read the other stories.
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